Can I Keep You?
by The Cry-Wank Kid
Summary: What would happen if Jimmy Darling came to live at the Mott mansion? How would the events of Freak Show have played out if he found love as Dandy's live-in freak? Jimdandy ship, don't judge me. Some VERY 18-plus stuff.
1. Excitable Boy

**A/N: Oh dear lord, I never wrote smut before. But here it is. Never say never, I guess. I feel very self conscious about it, but hey, sex is a part of life, right? And I KNOW some of you have been wanting some from me for ages. Don't lie. ;)**

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><p><em>After ten long years they let him out of the home  Excitable boy they all said / And he dug up her grave and built a cage with her bones / Excitable boy they all said / Well he's just an excitable boy..._

_-Warren Zevon, "Excitable Boy"_

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><p>"Really, Mrs. Mott," said the young man, waving one elongated hand dismissively in front of his face, "you don't need to say any more. It's... nothing that I haven't done before."<p>

He looked to the side, away from Gloria. For the first time in nearly a decade, Jimmy Darling blushed. It wasn't just that he wanted to protect the proper old bat and her delicate sensibilities. He was embarrassed himself. The things she was asking of him... they were done, sure, but they weren't _talked_ about.

"Dandy is a sensitive boy," the older woman said, unflinching. "He has... wants, desires, that I don't understand. And while I may not fully approve of them, I see no reason why they shouldn't be fulfilled; provided that they're never spoken of outside of the home or in company."

Jimmy finished his wine and set the crystal goblet back down on the brocade table cloth. "You don't need to worry about that, Mrs. Mott," he said. "I specialize in the things no one talks about. And even if I did tell, which I won't... no one would take a freak's word over yours, ma'am."

Gloria looked satisfied. "Well then," she said curtly. "He's upstairs waiting."

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><p>When Jimmy entered the large bedroom, Dandy Mott lay atop the double bed wearing the same lost expression most of his female clients wore. It was an expression of anxiety, guilt, worry; and beneath that: tentative and bubbling excitement.<p>

That wasn't what struck the young performer most, though. His immediate reaction was to wonder at how much the bedroom looked like a child's. It was papered in a pale blue print more fitting for a nursery than a man, and a small shelf with old model trains on it still adorned one wall. The curtains and bedspread were done in a childish cowboy and Indian print, and a plush dog off to one side appeared to be Dandy's only bedfellow. Jimmy felt a rush of sadness for the guy.

But he was handsome: much more so than Jimmy had expected. From Gloria's description, he'd been bracing himself for a young man as physically awkward as he was mentally so.

Jimmy's pale face broke into his trademark smirk. He might actually enjoy this. "Relax, doll," he said lifting one large hand to showcase all its fused, freakish glory. "I gotcha."

He reached for Dandy, but the young man flinched and sat up, groaning with his head in his hands. Jimmy was unphased. He'd had clients choke on him before.

"It's okay," he said slyly. "I don't bite, I promise."

"You don't understand!" exclaimed Dandy, his back turned to his new playmate. He sighed heavily. "The last time mother arranged something like this for me, the girl left crying..." He gave a short breath through his nose and grew quiet. "...So did I."

Jimmy's fair eyebrows inched up. "And you think you're gonna make me cry?" he chuckled. "Hate to tell ya, doll, but that's not something I do."

Dandy sighed again but didn't say anything. Jimmy took a step back. "Hey," he said, all the jokey pretense dropped now from his voice, "if you don't wanna do this, I can leave. Just say the word. This is a job. You don't have to worry about hurting my feelings."

The circus performer meant everything he was saying. Whole most of his tentative clients had a simple case of nerves, there had been a few in the past who'd genuinely not wanted it. Those were usually cases where someone else wanted it _for_ them. While Jimmy enjoyed servicing the pretty young women who came to him, he believed strongly in consent and hated to feel like he was coercing anyone into anything traumatic. He'd sent those few tearful women away without ever lifting their skirts.

Dandy turned to his new live-in entertainment. Jimmy thought he saw a few tears shining in the rich boy's eyes, but he couldn't be sure. The dark-haired man smiled. "You _are_ a lot nicer looking than the girl was..."

The look creeping across Dandy's face said it all. Jimmy grinned, dimples showing in both cheeks. "Lay down," he ordered.

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><p>The experience was a new one, in ways, for both of them. All of Jimmy's past male clients had been older, long-married men who'd spent decades hiding who they really were. But Dandy was as young and handsome as Jimmy himself, and the lobster-handed boy was pleased to discover that disrobed he was perfectly sized and aesthetically pleasing.<p>

Jimmy pleased him the way he'd learned to please men, taking the guy's length between the two fused sets of fingers on his right hand and teasing the tip of him between the ones on his left hand. Those grotesque, exquisite hands of Jimmy Darling's moved in perfect tandem up and down the length of Dandy, making the sheltered, awkward boy's handsome face contort with pleasure. Little cries escaped him as everything grew slick, barely more than breaths.

Only the dim glow of the nightlight behind him illuminated Jimmy, making him look like an angel. In those aching moments, Dandy couldn't be sure the boy wasn't just that. "You like that, huh doll?" he teased, cracking that gorgeous corn-fed smirk. In all his years in the business he'd learned how to tease both genders. When he felt Dandy growing close to extasy he'd slow down, creeping those claws of his up and down him at an achingly slow pace that made the boy groan. Jimmy felt himself grow hard. The sensation caught him off guard. He'd trained himself to not let that happen, even with girls.

After an agonizing minute of slowness, Jimmy tightened his grip and upped the pace to a panicked, desperate jerk until Dandy gave a repressed little cry and then came rather explosively all over Jimmy's green tee-shirt. The performer only smiled. He'd always taken pride in a job well done.

"All better?"

"Uh huh... uh..." Dandy breathed, weakly pulling his waistband back up. He lay on his back like a ragdoll, his shirt still open, looking dazed and spent. Jimmy stripped off his messy shirt and gave a quick wink before heading for the door.

"...Can I keep you?" the exhausted young man asked before his own personal freak could reach for the doorknob.

Jimmy looked back and smiled. "I don't have much of a choice here, do I?"


	2. Wake Up

**Stick with me, readers! There WILL be more dirty stuff, I promise! It will be on the regular. But not every chapter will be smut because that bores me. The characters messing around have to be part of a larger story, in my opinion, or else you might as well just watch porn.**

**Anyway, after last night I really wanted to write something about Meep's funeral. It also gave me a great excuse to write something teary, because if you couldn't tell by my username... that's kind of my thing. I'm afraid Dandy may be a little Draco In Leather Pants here (if you read my bio, I admit to being very guilty of this trope) but I tried to keep him somewhat in character. I think of them as Tate and Violet: one makes the other more human, but he'll always be a bit monster, too.**

**For the record, I am imagining here that Meep died under the same circumstances as on the show.**

**Also, I am sticking with the show's theme of using more modern songs in a 50's setting. Each of my chapters is "set" to the song it's named after. Okay, I'll shut up now! Please comment!**

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><p><em>Children, wake up  Hold your mistake up / before they turn the summer into dust / If the children don't grow up / our bodies get bigger but our hearts get torn up / We're just a million little gods causing rainstorms, turning every good thing to rust / I guess we'll just have to adjust..._

_-Arcade Fire, "Wake Up"_

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><p>When word of Meep's death reached the mansion, Jimmy wouldn't leave his room for several days. Dandy whined about how horribly bored he was, and Gloria complained that they'd purchased the creature for a handsome sum of money. The least he could do was perform his job.<p>

On the day of the geek's funeral, Dandy kicked and screamed and shed tears until his mother permitted him and Jimmy to attend. Gloria called the family's chauffeur to take the young men, and the two rode in silence, pale and clad in black.

On the hill overlooking the circus camp, Ethel greeted her son with reddened eyes and an embrace. Jimmy leaned in stiffly and didn't hug back. All around his freak show brethren gathered, many of them in tears. Elsa, in floor length black, dabbed at her eyes and held a forlorn Ma Petite in one arm. The conjoined twins wore matching black birdcage veils; Bette wept while Dot stared straight ahead with a grim expression. Each one of them was a reminder to Jimmy of the life he'd abandoned, the people he'd left to go live in the lap of luxury as a glorified pet.

Salty and Pepper pulled Meep's coffin up the hill in a little wagon, beginning the funeral procession. One by one or two by two the performers stepped solemnly forward to take one last look at their fallen comrade or place a flower in his still hands.

"He looks just like a doll," Dandy observed quietly, peering alongside Jimmy into Meep's tiny coffin. Jimmy removed his black jacket and placed it over the dead boy's torso. "He was always cold," he said, the first words he'd spoken all day. Dandy could have sworn he heard a quiver in his companion's voice, but he chalked it up to nothing. Jimmy didn't cry; he'd said so himself.

The privileged boy felt a rush of cold, a switch he knew all too well being flipped behind his eyes. There it was again: that dark inner voice who longed for blood, to cut and stab and hurt. It thirsted when he thought of Dell Toledo.

"My family is very powerful," he said tensely, not looking at Jimmy. "Those who hurt us pay."

"Come along now," Elsa crowed, gently pushing the coffin shut. She handed Jimmy a small shovel and allowed him to place the first bit of dirt atop the box as Ethel and Eve lowered it into the ground. The men made their way to the back of the small crowd and watched as the music swelled and each performer took their turn covering the lowered casket in dirt.

_Something filled up my heart with nothing / Someone told me not to cry..._

Their simple procession brought tears to Dandy's eyes, which surprised him. It wasn't that he didn't cry. Quite the opposite: he shed tears often; but they were shallow, bored tears meant to manipulate his mother into giving him his way. They seemed to shed from the very surface of him, just beneath his skin where the frustration and ennui lived. These tears instead felt wrenched from somewhere else, some place of deep grief that the shallow boy was surprised he was capable of. It was partially selfish. Meep's tiny broken body, so wrong and vulnerable in its doll-casket, mirrored the tiny broken soul inside of Dandy Mott's tall, broad-shouldered body.

_But now that I'm older / my heart's colder / and I can see that it's a lie..._

He heard a sniffle beside him, and without looking-or thinking, even-reached for Jimmy's hand, taking the boy's malformed fingers in his own. It was odd: he'd let those hands touch him, tease him, bring him pleasure and pain, but he'd never touched them with his own hands before. He'd grown fond of Jimmy, sure; Jimmy was his plaything, the most splendid one he had. But Dandy had never thought of him before as someone fully human, someone who might need comfort or care. The new idea brought more tears.

"I'm sorry, pet," he whispered. "So awfully, terribly sorry."

Jimmy glanced sideways at him, his voice the lowest quiet. "You don't... you don't have an extra handkerchief... do you?"

Dandy pressed the one he was already holding into Jimmy's hand. "Here. We can share mine."

From far away behind a small clearing of trees, a silent, towering clown watched the scene, panting behind a blood-stained mask and plotting, too, for Dell Toledo.


	3. Werewolf

_But you were such a super guy til the second you get a whiff of me / We're like a wishing well and a bolt of electricity / But we can still support each other / all we gotta do's avoid each other / Nothing wrong when a song ends in a minor key..._

_-Fiona Apple, "Werewolf"_

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><p>In Dandy's dream, he and a clown held children captive in an old bus. The fever made the images come and go at a nonsensical, dizzying pace, like a merry-go-round, each more bloody and violent than the last. The most horrible part was that Dandy was certain he loved it. It was he, not the clown, who laughed and plotted as the lambs' blood spilled. It was lambs and babies and teenage lovers and dead cats. He woke screaming.<p>

"Get out!" he cried, beating at his temples on either side with fists. "Get out of my head!"

"You _want_ your mom to come in here with that awful cough syrup again?" asked Jimmy, appearing in the bedroom doorway. He'd been sleeping and was dressed only in the bottom half of some gray pajamas. "Cause she will, you know she will, if you keep that screaming up."

"Oh, Jimmy..." Dandy sighed, taking a sip of liquor from the glass baby bottle on his nightstand, "my dear Jimmy... entertain me. Make the... oh, I don't know, the hand shadows again. Those amuse me."

Now it was Jimmy's turn to sigh. "You can really drive a person nuts," he muttered, "you know that? ...Okay. What do you want, the vampire again?"

The sick boy tugged on his disheveled hair and moaned. Such a decision felt like too much for him in his current state.

"What?" asked Jimmy, hardly hiding the annoyance in his voice.

"You just choose..." whined Dandy, putting a hand to his forehead and feeling quite sorry for himself. He felt sweaty and cold and his body writhed without him even meaning to.

Jimmy managed a smile and set to work in the dull beam made by the nightlight on the wall. He made vampires and other fantastical creatures appear and disappear with the shadows of his hands. He made big dinosaurs and great rare birds.

After a few minutes Dandy cried out unexpectedly, a frustrated wail that echoed off all four walls of the bedroom. His fists beat into the bed on either side.

"What?" demanded Jimmy, his long hands falling to his sides. In the dim light he looked quite tired. It illuminated the hollows of his cheekbones and the shadows under his eyes, the contrast to his pale skin.

"You're supposed to entertain me, freak!" cried Dandy. "You're my freak, mother bought you for me, and you're not doing your job! I want you to make the monsters go away, and _you're not helping!_"

Fire flashed in Jimmy's dark eyes. "C'mon," he said coldly. "Get up, scoot to the edge of your bed."

"I'm too tired," Dandy complained. "I'm ill. You just come here, come to me."

"Fine," Jimmy muttered, pulling back the covers and positioning himself so that he could pull down the waistband of the other guy's pajama bottom. Dandy's skin was hot to the touch with fever, and clammy. It burnt Jimmy, making him sweat on contact. He took hold with one hand and lowered his mouth down onto the hard part of Dandy.

"Oh..." Dandy whispered-a quiet, quivering exclamation. He'd never had such a thing done to him before, and the closeness and wetness of it was almost too exquisite a feeling to bear. Jimmy, too, had never done it to a guy before. He'd been on the receiving end of things with plenty of women, though, so he knew what he liked and figured it couldn't be too hard to duplicate. Maybe this would calm the kid down and make him shut up so that Jimmy could finally sleep.

He gripped the base of Dandy a little too firmly and ran just the very edges of his teeth over him. "I told you not to call me that," he breathed tensely, "remember?"

"Uh... uh-huh..." Dandy murmured. His body spasmed and jerked, his hands gripping the bedclothes in a losing battle for control. Jimmy took him deeper and longer, alternating fast and slow and teasing in harmony with his tongue. Finally it was the threatened bite, the little tease of teeth that ghosted over the tip of him that sent the frustrated boy over the edge. He jerked hard and abruptly, crying out. Jimmy tightened his grip and took his first mouthful, just like the girls behind the curtain at the freak show used to do.

He swallowed hard and rolled gently from the bed, sinking to his knees beside it and resting his head on the edge. He was awfully tired. He didn't know exactly how to feel about what he'd just done. It was a little embarrassing, but at the same time he'd enjoyed it. There were few things Jimmy Darling loved more than making someone come. It was sensation of power in a world that granted so little to people like him.

He felt a hand reach clumsily for his hair. He couldn't even tell if Dandy was trying to be tender or rough. "I'm sorry, pet," he sighed from his place in the bed. "You know I didn't mean it, not like that..."

Jimmy stood up, rolling his eyes. "You're real lucky you're cute," he said, before showing himself out.


	4. The Joy In Forgetting

_"And I stay up all night walking through these houses I have grown to hate / And my parents ask if I'm alright / I say "I've just been staying up too late" / I need to sleep / I need to do something / To get this awful weight up off my chest..."_

_-Bright Eyes, "The Joy In Forgetting/The Joy In Acceptance" _

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><p>The weekend before Halloween, Gloria allowed Dandy a trip to the movie theater to see the yearly showing of The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. At first he'd refused. He didn't want to go anywhere without what he called "his Jimmy", but Gloria didn't think it appropriate that such a fine young man be seen in public with a creature whose hands frightened children. After a lengthy tantrum the old woman relented, provided that the hired performer wear a pair of her son's winter mittens. She shook her head, though, watching them leave. Of <em>course<em> Dandy couldn't fixate on the splendid puppet theater she'd had installed in the play room or the life-sized hobby horse in the parlor. Fancy such a handsome, well-bred boy becoming so hopelessly attached to such an unorthodox toy.

In the dark theater, Jimmy leaned forward like a child in his rickety wooden seat and stared with wide, enchanted eyes. It didn't matter that it was a silent movie from some thirty years ago. He'd never been allowed such luxuries as a picture show before, even as a child, and to the usually-jaded young man, the old film in the dusty small-town theater was the most amazing thing in the world.

Dandy found himself fixating on the doctor in the movie. He saw the character as an extension of himself, the proud owner of his very own monster. The somnambulist, Cesare, reminded him of Jimmy: his own deer, frightened and jerky and stand-offish. He whimpered and gripped Jimmy's arm a little too tightly when Cesare died.

After the film both men were on a natural high. Jimmy had his usual charm dialed up to eleven, and Dandy was feeling closer than ever to his favorite plaything and wanted to spend every possible moment with the guy. They hung around outside of the theater, chatting with other young locals, kids out hunting action.

Jimmy in particular was wired. Though his deformity was relatively easily hidden, his mother and Elsa had always forbade him from most socialization with normal folks, deeming it too risky. Besides, he'd always had the more vulnerable carnival members to look after; he couldn't just go gallivanting around town at will. Experiencing nightlife now for the first time in his twenty-five years, he was practically beside himself with pleasure.

When Dandy went back inside to get himself a soda, he returned to find Jimmy chatting up a petite brunette in a green dress, one mittened hand propped up on the side of the building and his face inches from hers, staring down at her with his dimpled grin.

"You should be in the movies," he was saying. "You're prettier than the girl in that film was."

"Excuse us," said Dandy, taking Jimmy by the arm and positioning himself rudely between him and the blushing girl. "My friend and I have somewhere to be." Jimmy winked at the brunette over his shoulder as his companion pulled him away down the street.

"Aw, you're no fun," he griped as they walked in the direction of home. He grinned. "Want me all to yourself, huh?" The girl in question had mattered little to Jimmy. His only remaining goal for the night was to get someone off. Even gender was irrelevant.

"Do you really think she would have wanted you once she saw what was under those mitts?" asked Dandy, not a trace of humor in his voice. "She can't love you; you must know that."

Jimmy raised his hands in front of his body, a defensive stance. "Whoa whoa," he said, "who said anything about love?" He chuckled. Normally such a statement would have made him angry, but he was too high spirited-and buzzed from the cognac in Dandy's hidden flask-to take offense now. "You sound like my mother."

"You trust me," said Dandy abruptly. "Right? I can share things with you, things about myself?"

Jimmy looked baffled. "Sure..."

"Good." Reaching home now, Dandy lead Jimmy through the front gate and through the Mott's large, beautifully manicured yard. He walked around the back side of the mansion and crouched down beside a small trapdoor on the house's outside. It had once held garden tools but was long since abandoned when Gloria had a larger shed put up.

"Here," he gulped, drinking from the flask and then handing it to Jimmy when he sat down beside him. The mittened boy took the drink happily, laughing and smiling at Dandy with an air of genuine comradery.

Dandy opened the small hatch and dug around in it until he located his prized handiwork. Grinning, he pulled the thing out and set it between himself and Jimmy: The flattened, leathered skin of a dead orange cat.

"It was the neighbors' wretched tabby," he said proudly. "I did away with it and kept just the parts I liked. It was the most fun I'd had in ages, before you showed up."

Jimmy went white. Dandy watched in horror as all the friendship drained from his eyes. He felt his own brittle, undersized heart begin to break.

"Look," said Jimmy slowly. He stood. He was speaking and moving now like someone Dandy didn't know, someone distant and tentative and all wrong. "I'm gonna leave and go to bed, okay? And when I... when I get up in the morning, I'm gonna pretend this didn't happen, right? I'm gonna pretend you never showed me that..." He looked at the skin once more and swallowed a shudder. "...That _thing_." He winced, turning. "God. Goddamn..."

"You won't speak to me that way!" Dandy screamed after him. "I don't get spoken to like that by _freaks! Freak!_" His voice was raw, straining; his dirty hands clenching white-knuckled. "_Freak!_"

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><p>"I hate you I hate you I hate you I hate you <em>I hate you!<em>"

Dandy sat at the sturdy oak dining table, bashing his forehead onto it over and over again until it bled. Angry, frustrated tears streaked his face.

"What is it?" asked Gloria, disapproving. "I let you go to the picture show with that creature, just like you wanted. Why are you unhappy?"

"Mother..." moaned Dandy, squeezing his temples between his fists. "The freak won't do as I please, he won't behave..."

Gloria shook her head knowingly. "We won't keep it," she said. "We'll return it and get you a new one. Not the seal or the two-headed one; that one in particular has a terrible attitude. Maybe one of the pinheads."

"I don't _want_ a pinhead, mother!" cried Dandy, heading for the stairs. Now he was more angry than ever. He didn't want a new freak; he wanted his own Jimmy to behave. "Pinheads are boring! I hate you!"

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><p>The spoiled boy thrashed and raged and wept shallow tears until he finally wore himself out, passing out face-first across his still-made bed in a small puddle of his own blood and sweat. When he woke hours later it was still dark, and the air outside his open window buzzed with the secret, otherworldly hum of the earliest morning hours.<p>

It was as if he were the somnambulist now. He stood, dazed, as if called by some force outside that he couldn't explain. In his groggy state, he didn't question. He just walked.

He walked through the blackened garden, the topiary and the flowered paths expertly tended by gardeners in the daytime hours. In deepest night now, they were eerie. The fall air made them misty and still, and in the gloom of it Dandy smelled rain.

That's when he saw it. Him.

The young man walked to the figure, entranced, one hand held out in front of him like a sleepwalker. When he came close his hand bumped against the thing's broad chest, solid and undoubtedly real. Really there. Dandy gasped, drawing it back.

"Hello... clown."

The figure didn't speak. It was enormous, so tall that even a man Dandy's height had to look up into its eyes. Those eyes: they weren't cold, like a monster's should be. They were human, too human, and wholly unsettling. There were things there, warmth and feeling and pleasure and trauma.

"Have you... have you come to entertain me? I'm awfully bored..."

There was no answer; just the sound of the thing breathing behind its half-mask. It was a gruesome mask, a ripped-open smile with too many teeth. The clown turned and beckoned for Dandy to follow.

Tied up at the far edges of the garden beneath a large tree was a graying, tattooed man: a prisoner. "I thought the little geek did it!" cried the man, sweating and struggling in vain against the ropes around his ankles and wrists. "It wasn't my fault! They told me he did it!"

Dandy's eyes went empty. "You killed him?" he asked in an even, inhumanly polite tone. The rage beneath it was like a knife under ice. "Meep the geek, from the carnival. You hurt him?"

"They told me he did it!" the frantic man repeated. He looked up at the clown, his red face straining. "Let me go, you bastard! Let me go!"

The clown stooped to pick up the axe that lay at his feet, placing it gently in the rich boy's shaking hands. Dandy remembered Jimmy-his Jimmy, good Jimmy, sweet pure Jimmy afflicted through no fault of his own-and the tears in his eyes at Meep's funeral. The dear boy hadn't even really let himself weep, poor thing.

He raised the axe above his head and brought it down again. And again, and again, and again. In the periphery that surrounded his dulled senses, he heard screaming. He saw red.


	5. The Joy In Acceptance

**A/N: Wow, I'm so flattered to have so many followers! I'm glad you guys like it. If you're inclined to comment, please do! I love more than anything to know people's thoughts about what I write. It makes my day!**

**So this next chapter... well, it's cry-wank. Be warned. Some of you sentimental jerks might even find it sweet. ;) **

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><p><em>"So you say there are spaces, open and wide  Believe me there's days longer than nights / And you will be happy the minute you try / But you don't try / No you don't try / And you speak of a fever that burns you inside / as you explain to your mother how you've wanted to die / So she kisses your fingers / says my darling but why? / when there is so much more /_ _There is so much more..."_

_-Bright Eyes, "The Joy In Forgetting/The Joy In Acceptance"_

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><p>The minutes following the kill were a blur to Dandy of flashing vision and racing pulses, laughing and running and the sound of frantic drums and blaring, off-key horns. Overcome with desire for something, for anything, for that feeling in his dick, he giggled like a schoolchild and pulled the clown by the arm to the side of the house. He crouched by the trapdoor-oh, what a silly accomplishment that cat felt like now to be proud of!-and unzipped his pants, exposing himself to the tall, silent figure.<p>

The clown, stoic, watched. It only took Dandy a short minute of desperate jerking until he came, getting a bit of the mess on his mystery companion's filthy costume and laughing gleefully until he stopped, panting, staring spent and high into the clown's unmoved face.

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><p>The wallpapered hallway between Dandy's bedroom and Jimmy's felt like miles suddenly. Outside thunder sounded and rain fell. The storm had come.<p>

Jimmy hadn't slept. He sat on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. Tears collected in his eyelashes, soaking them so that they didn't fall. He sniffled.

"Jimmy?" Dandy cracked open the door and stepped in. "Oh Jimmy, thank god you're awake. This awful storm... I'm bored, I'm so bored, and what's more I'm frightend. I don't like storms, I told mother that, but she won't let me sleep with her anymore and... oh. Oh no, no."

Dandy hurried to Jimmy's side and attempted to put a hand on the performer's arm. Jimmy jerked away from him. "You can't do that too loudly," Dandy said anxiously, "you can't cry. Mother will hear you and she'll think I'm not taking good care of you, she'll send you away..."

"I'm not crying," said Jimmy, somewhat petulantly. He was wearing a long-sleeved tee-shirt, that green color that looked so nice on him, and was obviously full of bullshit. His mother's alcoholism had given him deformed hands but been merciful on the rest of his body. He'd grown up tall and strong and handsome; and what was more: his mind had been spared. It was ordinary-sharp, even-not feeble like Salty or Pepper or Meep. The only other effect of in-utero booze was his pallor. He was stark white, possessed of the kind of complexion that grew blotchy and red-eyed at the slightest hint of tears or illness. Not that the former happened much.

"Don't be angry," pleaded Dandy. "I do care for you, I do."

"Bullshit," Jimmy muttered. He turned his back to his housemate. "I'm not someone to you. I'm not someone to anybody."

"Please," pressed Dandy, "you have to listen. I'm just like you inside, that's why I wanted you. What you see when you look at me, that's not who I am, not really..."

_"I'm an object!"_ Jimmy exclaimed, so loudly that Dandy startled. The rage in his voice was underscored by torrents of unshed tears. "I was born an object in front of a leering crowd, and I'll die an object in a clapboard coffin and a shallow grave, just like Meep! I've never owned a goddamn thing, not even my own body! Don't you _dare_ try and tell me you know what it's like to be me!"

For the first time in his life, Dandy Mott was speechless. Few dared to yell at him, and those who did were quickly made to regret it. But now he just sat, silent, staring at Jimmy's profile. The fairer boy gave a slight whimper. A tear dripped off of his straight nose. Dandy handed him a handkerchief, hoping he wouldn't notice the blood on one edge. Jimmy's neck looked delicate, somehow, bent like that, his shock of light brown hair falling into his face. His big dark eyes were all full of tears. It gave sociopathic Dandy a feeling in his chest that he wasn't used to, as if his heart were a crushed grasshopper. Brittle. Tiny. Insignificant.

"You're not an object to me," he said finally, after a long minute of Jimmy sniffling and wiping his eyes and not wanting to be touched or sat near. "You're my friend. You don't know the things I'd do for you, Jimmy, you don't..."

"Bull. Shit."

"You are," Dandy insisted. "I... I never really had one before." For the second time in his life, there it was: that odd painful warmth rising in his chest, behind his eyes. He sniffled and wiped his nose on his shirt cuff.

Jimmy just shook his head and wiped tears away for about the tenth time that minute. His eyes seemed intent now on shedding copious amounts of the damn things. "Oh god," he muttered. "Don't _you_ start crying..."

Dandy resolved not to. It wasn't hard. Jimmy sighed. "That... that thing you showed me," he said, pained. "It just reminded me so much of Meep. So vulnerable and... broken... dead." His voice broke and he put his face in his hands. "I never wanted to see him like that..."

This time he let Dandy put a hand on his shoulder. "I won't do it again, pet," he said. "I promise... my god. You are awfully skinny."

Jimmy almost laughed. He sniffled and lifted his face to wipe his nose. "I wish my mom was here," he said quietly.

A tear ran down Dandy's cheek. He didn't look at Jimmy with his cold eyes. "She held you?" he asked with a quiet tension.

Jimmy nodded. His voice was all choked up. "She used to. When I'd let her."

"I see. Mine never did."

The next moment was almost like poetry. Lying in bed at night, touching himself or staring at the ceiling, Dandy would later recall it as beautiful, watching Jimmy break and cry. His exquisite somnambulist, silent movie villian, beautiful monster: his mouth twitched, holding back for a moment, and then he gave a sniffle and a small whimper and broke completely. Dandy wouldn't have thought that someome so charismatic could cry so terribly.

He didn't even really remember taking hold of the boy, how awkward those few moments of the embrace must have been.

"Oh Jimmy," he exclaimed. "My dear, dear Jimmy; you really are my friend, you are..."

"God..." Jimmy sobbed into his friend's shirt. "I haven't really cried in about fifteen years..."

"All the more reason. There there, pet. There..."

Dandy's perfect hands stroked the freak's hair and his quivering shoulders, holding him close. Jimmy fell into him, shuddered, and wept like a child.

* * *

><p>The sun was rising and the rain had stopped by the time he left Jimmy's room. It had taken that long for the poor thing to cry himself out, dry his tears, and sleep. Dandy couldn't recall anymore whether the storm and the clown and the dead man had been real or a dream.<p>

The rich young man, his clothes rumpled, stepped out into the new light of the garden, squinting. A blackbird swooped down in front of him, too close. In an instant Dandy's hands were around its body, a swift crack, and then the thing fell to the ground stiff and dead.


	6. Edward Is Dedward

**Be warned: this is the dirtiest thing I've ever written. It's also the most authentically MY sexuality. It's weird to be exposed in this way. But here you have it. Welcome to my filthy, sentimental little mind.**

* * *

><p><em>I couldn't see, missed you so much  Missed you so much I had to fuck / between your sheets all childhood clean / the pillows painted with your dreams / I didn't want to stop and think / how I should've said a thousand things / Yeah, but hey:_

_Like we agreed, I will be brave / I will pour whiskey on your grave / Smoke cigarettes amongst the stones / Sprinkle champagne upon your bones / If burial restricts your view, I'll bring the city here to you / I'll pack the river and the clock / Wrap it into a picnic box / With golden bows and crystal mugs / My dancing heels will feel the mud / We'll disco boogie til the dawn / I'll teach this village how to mourn..._

_-Emmy The Great, "Edward Is Dedward"_

* * *

><p>Dandy didn't sleep that morning. He had Dora fix coffee instead and brought a cup and saucer upstairs for Jimmy. The guy was asleep still when Dandy came in, flat on his back with his head turned slightly to one side. The sunlight streaming in through the curtains made his brown hair look almost blond. Dandy studied Jimmy's profile: his sweet mouth and the delicate bridge of his nose, his eyelashes long albiet fair. There was something almost pretty about him. What a pity. He could have been an actor if not for those hands.<p>

"Rise and shine," he said, grinning rather maniacally as Jimmy slowly opened his eyes, looking groggy and weary. He didn't really want to face anything yet, least of all Dandy. It was mortifying enough that he'd spent the night before sobbing into the guy's shoulder and blowing his nose in his nice handkerchief.

The dark-haired man's grin only grew brighter. "I brought you coffee," he said, pushing the saucer at Jimmy. "Drink up. We can have all kinds of fun today."

Jimmy squinted, lifting the cup to his lips. "Do you just... not sleep?" He shifted and sat up slightly, revealing his bare chest. He was clad only in underwear but couldn't remember getting that way. He hoped Dandy hadn't done it for him.

"This goddamn early..." he muttered, chuckling dazedly. "If you're not careful you're gonna summon the spirit of Edward Mordrake..."

Dandy rolled his eyes. Jimmy had been on about that silly myth for the past week. It was almost endearing. "Edward is dedward," he proclaimed tiredly, with a careless flourish for dramatic effect. Then he burst out laughing.

Jimmy did, too. "Edward..." he wheezed, near hysterics. "Poor Edward..."

"_Dedward_," pronounced Dandy, barely able to get the made-up word out. The joke was a new experience to him. He'd never shared an inside joke before. Perhaps that was what friends did.

"Ah..." sighed Jimmy, finally getting ahold of himself enough to drink his coffee. "God. Last night, you know... I think the booze got to me. And I've just been so messed up about what happened, with Meep. I mean you know, right? You know I don't usually..."

"Nonsense," Dandy dismissed. "Everyone needs a good cry now and then. Right?" A strange look crossed his face. "Release..."

"What are you talking about?"

"You've had your emotional release. I think you need a physical one to go with it."

He reached for Jimmy, but Jimmy pulled back. "Come on," he said slowly. "You know that's not what you... hired me for." He didn't really mean hired, of course, he meant "bought", but he couldn't bring himself to say it.

"But you must need it..." Dandy whined, rubbing Jimmy's blanketed knee with all that crippling awkwardness. Its power was enough to keep a man as beautiful as Dandy still virginal at twenty-seven. Besides, he'd never liked girls the way he was supposed to. "Do you... do you ever touch yourself..." his voice dropped to a whisper and his mouth twitched, embarrassed. "...the way I do?"

"What?" Jimmy sat up a bit more and put a hand on Dandy's outstretched wrist, overcome suddenly with pity for the poor guy. "...Well yeah, of course. All guys have got to, right?"

Dandy's face clouded. "That's not what mother says."

Jimmy's dark eyes rolled. "Fuck mother."

Dandy laughed. "Fuck Edward."

"Edward..." Jimmy gasped, his chest tight and his eyes squinting with laughter. "Poor, poor Edward Mordrake..."

* * *

><p>"Just do it like you'd do it to yourself," said Jimmy. He was lying flat on his back in bed, covered only from the waist down with a sheet. The sheets, starched and clean and fragrant, were a childish rocket-ship print. Space travel, said Dandy, was the thing. Jimmy didn't have the heart to laugh and hurt his feelings.<p>

He noticed Dandy's hands shaking as he pulled the sheet back. His eyes widened. "My god..." he muttered. "You're... I mean you're _really_..."

Jimmy blushed, but his grin was a rakish and proud one. "You know what they say," he said, lifting one claw. "Big hands..."

He waited. "Go on," he urged. His voice was a little husky still from crying so much the night before. "Get a little spit on your hands first."

Dandy did. The image of someone so proper spitting into his own palms was almost too much to bear. It was funny and erotic and sad all at once. Jimmy shut his tired eyes for a moment and was caught off guard when the wet slip of the guy's hands touched his dick. Electric currents of pleasure shot through him immediately, threatening to make him come. It had been a while, he realized. He'd been so busy pleasing Dandy and then so depressed over Meep that he'd neglected himself. He couldn't remember when he'd come last.

Dandy looked down at Jimmy's naked body. Like the rest of him, it was porcelain-pale and somehow childlike and unmistakably masculine at once. Being fair, there wasn't much hair on his torso, but a quarter-century with the freak show had left him well-built. His ribs showed. They heaved now as he jerked and gasped.

As Jimmy's precum mixed with the spit in his hands, Dandy grinned and thought about Jimmy crying. He thought about how naked he'd seemed, that crooked-charisma smile wiped off of his face to reveal the big eyes of a little boy who was terribly, terribly hurt. He remembered how those big eyes wept-the flow from them was the most epic he'd seen, even in movies. He hadn't known such a volume of tears was possible. So dark for the rest of him, those awfully, terribly haunted eyes could soak handkerchiefs unusable if set off. Even nice ones, even thick material. Such tokens of the upper class were no match for the waterworks of Jimmy Darling's sorrow.

Both slick hands jerked Jimmy's dick. Jimmy oozed precum, getting close. The small mess dripped a bit onto the surrounding sheets, so clean and soft. Now they'd smell like and salt and chlorine. Like boy.

"You've known so much death," Dandy whispered, "haven't you, pet?"

"Y-y-yes..." Jimmy stammered, biting his lip. "Death and... oh-h, oh god... death and loss. I've b-buried... buried bodies..."

He watched Jimmy's face as he just barely held back ecstasy. When he breathed in he still sounded congested. His nose looked a little chapped-probably from sobbing. So did his lips. Perhaps once they were done Dandy would offer him some Vaseline for his face.

He remembered that sobbing, though, the sound of it. More than that: the _feel_ of it in his arms. Jimmy was cagey, predatory, a beautiful creature, a monster, and Dandy had tamed him. He'd allowed Dandy to feel the big sobs heave and crack and break like waves inside of his thin back. Dandy had only held him tight and tried to shoulder some of it, his shoulder a sandbag for that saltwater flood and his own back a shore for those awful waves to break on, but they were too wet and big. A young man from privilege-even troubled privilege-couldn't possibly begin to shoulder the grief in the heart of the boy born a monster-baby in front of a live, gawking crowd.

Jimmy's eyelashes fluttered and his eyes popped open suddenly. He studied, for a moment, Dandy's face. It was classically handsome in a way he envied: it made one think of jawbones and shoulders and forearms. But now in an instant it flickered into something else: a skeleton, a death mask. Jimmy's eyes widened.

"My g-god..." he breathed, hitching as his dick twitched, right on the edge. "You really m-meant it... you r-really... _Ohh_ god, fuck... really a-are like me inside... a-aren't you...?"

Dandy's hands were softer than a lot of girls' were, but bigger than any of theirs, the grip firmer. It wasn't that, though, that sent Jimmy over the edge. It was the look on Dandy's face, the awkward teary little twitch of it when he heard his friend's gasped, hiccuped words.

Dandy's eyes shone. He looked as if he could weep. Jimmy came. And came and came. In a moment of pure stunted sweetness, Dandy caught the mess with the edge of his pajama top, soaking it with Jimmy's cum the way his shirt had been soaked with the boy's tears hours earlier.

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?" whispered Jimmy, still naked, as Dandy and his soiled pajama top climbed into the small bed beside him and pulled the covers over both of their heads. "Come on. Your mom'll kill you if she catches you lying in bed with me. You know that."<p>

Dandy grabbed Jimmy's jaw rather roughly in his hands and looked at him. There was love in that gaze, sure, but also a deranged intensity. "Jimmy..." he whispered, "Jimmy, I want to know everything about you. You simply _must_ tell me everything. Understand?"

Jimmy rolled over so that both men were lying on their backs, side by side, staring up at a cotton mural of astronauts. "Okay," he said.

* * *

><p>The duo stood at the edge of the Mott's vast garden, watching the dead prisoner's striped uniform burn. Dandy still hadn't the faintest idea what the clown might have done with the body. It was simply gone.<p>

Jimmy cringed. "I should have done this," he muttered. "I should have melted down the badge... Then maybe Meep'd still be here..."

Dandy put a hand on his companion's shoulder. "It's you and me from now on. Okay?"

Jimmy nodded. "We've got each other's backs. And no more killing. Right?"

"Not unless we have to," said Dandy under his breath.

"That's right," sighed Jimmy. "Not unless we have to."


	7. Butterfly

**A full Halloween chapter is coming! And it shall be sexy and scary and edge-of-your-seat. In the meantime, I felt very compelled to write a short drabbly thing that borders on fluff. So here it is.**

* * *

><p><em>I told you I would return  when the robin makes his nest / But I ain't never coming back... I'm sorry / I'm sorry / I'm sorry..._

_-Weezer, "Butterfly"_

* * *

><p>"Jimmy," Dandy whispered, sliding in beside his friend and pulling the covers up over both of their heads like he often did. "Oh, Jimmy, I can't sleep. I'm just so excited for Halloween tomorrow... I just can't wait to terrorize the town. That and my stomach hurts. I gorged myself on candy corn."<p>

Jimmy forced a wan smile in the dark. Only the small light outside the window illuminated the room enough to make his profile visible.

"What is it, pet?" asked Dandy impatiently. "Aren't you excited?"

Jimmy didn't look at him. "What you said earlier," he began, "that your body holds a heart that can't love. What was that shit?" He felt the beginning of tears prick his eyes and inwardly hated himself for it. He didn't know why he was suddenly so goddamn needy, why he felt the sudden need for this psychopath to love him. It wasn't even romantic. He just felt desperate for assurance that someone in his current life cared for him, that his existence wasn't completely shallow and cold.

Dandy shrugged. "The prisoner looked right into my eyes as he died," he said, "and I felt nothing."

"And what about when I look into them?" asked Jimmy, his voice catching, turning now to face the other man. "Huh?"

Dandy's eye and lip performed that odd emotional twitch of theirs. "When you look into them I want to die," he said tensely. "When you look into them my chest hurts. Like when I cough."

"_I_ want to die," whispered Jimmy.

"Oh, pet, please don't cry..." said Dandy with a syrupy tenderness, reaching out to wipe the tears from one side of Jimmy's face with his fingertips. Jimmy flinched but let him.

"I hate your eyes," he complained, continuing. "I do. I want the stupid ghosts gone from them, and they won't do as I say. They won't leave. I would kill over and over and over again-I would kill my own mother-to make them not haunted anymore."

Jimmy sniffled, a sound like slush on a gravel driveway. "That's not what I want..."

"_Please_," begged Dandy, the edge of a meltdown in his voice. "I detest crying. You're my friend. You're the only light I've ever know."

"But I haven't changed you..." Jimmy choked.

"No," agreed Dandy flatly, staring straight up at the inside of the quilt. "I'm so sorry."

Jimmy bit his lip and felt hands on his face again, drying it with a kind of clumsy tenderness that, in light of everything else, was heartbreaking.

"But I can listen," Dandy insisted, a whisper. "I can." He beamed. "Tell me about Meep, our fallen hero. Remember? I told you I want to know everything."

Jimmy did. His tales of the freak show, the squalor and impropriety of it, were wonderfully exotic to Dandy. He still would have liked to join. He didn't say as much, though. He just listened as promised, wiping the tears from Jimmy's eyes as they fell, over and over, with an odd look of wonder on his face.

They passed out side by side, sweaty-haired and akimbo and a few inches apart. He'd fallen asleep in the freak's room, mother be damned.


	8. Such Small Hands, Part One

_I think I saw you in my sleep, darling / I think I saw you in my dreams / you were stitching up the seams / on every broken promise that your body couldn't keep / I think I saw you in my sleep..._

_-La Dispute, "Such Small Hands"_

* * *

><p>"Ta-da!" cried Jimmy half-heartedly, though he was attempting to sound enthusiastic. His voice was muffled by the white sheet over his head. "I'm a ghost!"<p>

Dandy arched an eyebrow and looked critically into the eyes peering at him through two clumsily cut holes. He was sitting on the floor of the playroom in his underwear, sewing the final touches onto what looked like a clown outfit. "That'll have to do, I suppose. It's too late to find you anything else."

Jimmy pushed the sheet back over his head so that it hung around his shoulders, revealing the capgun in one of his hands. It wasn't a planned addition; he'd just grabbed it on the way there in hopes that it would help his last-minute costume be met with more approval. "Not just any ghost," he said, "see? I'm... the ghost of a mass shooter."

Dandy shook his head, smiling. "You could never be that," he said. "You're too kind. But no matter. Help me get into this thing and we can be off. Mother let me have my car tonight; no dealing with that horrid driver of hers." He grinned broadly. "It'll be just us."

* * *

><p>On the back way into town the pair noticed a car broken down on the side of the deserted road. In the glow of the headlights, Jimmy could make out a woman in a skirt and heels, hugging herself.<p>

"Pull over," he hissed. "Someone broke down. We have to help them."

Dandy looked pained. "Let someone else come along and do it," he whined. "We're going to be late."

"Are you kidding? It could be hours before anyone else drives by out here. Pull over."

Dandy sighed but did as Jimmy said. When they stepped out into the pool of the headlights, the young woman gave them a suspicious glare.

"Where's your costume?" grinned Jimmy from behind his sheet.

"Very funny," she spat. "Did you stop to help me or just harass me?"

Jimmy flipped the sheet backwards over his head. "Come on," he said, "my friend and I'll give you a lift into town."

The blonde girl looked at his outstretched hand. "Wait..." she said slowly. "You're Jimmy. Jimmy Darling. I heard about you..."

Jimmy flashed a dimpled smile, his invulnerable charm instinctively turning on in the presence of a pretty girl. "In the flesh."

She shot an arched glance at Dandy. "And you must be the fruit the freak show sold him to."

"You shut your foul mouth!" cried Dandy from behind his plastic clown mask. "I'm not a fruit! He's my companion."

The girl chuckled. "I'm sure he is."

"Wait," interrupted Jimmy, his eyes narrowing. "You're not the new fortune teller I heard about..."

"I am."

"Wow. Sorry, I... It's just, I didn't expect someone..."

"...White?" the girl finished. Her red lips flashed a wan and toothy smile. "Yeah, well, we can't control to whom a gift is given."

Jimmy laughed. "I was gonna say pretty. But come on. Like I said, we'll give you a lift. Into town, or back to the camp. And you are?"

"Maggie," she said, not holding out a hand for either man to shake. "Maggie Esmerelda."

"Well come on, Miss Esmerelda, get in the car. This is no place for a lady, especially tonight."

"Wait!" she interjected. "I saw something. Someone. A kidnapping, I think. Maybe we should go investigate."

"Oh for the love of god!" cried Dandy. "Jimmy, leave her! She's ruining our Halloween with wild goose-chases!"

Maggie ignored him. "It was the weirdest thing..." she said, shaking her head. "He was dressed as a clown..."

Dandy's entire demeanor changed in an instant. He pulled the mask off his face, revealing tousled hair and wide eyes. "Did you say... a clown?"

* * *

><p>"I told you!" hissed Maggie in the thick dark, pointing from the wooded clearing at the tall figure dragging a shorter one into a bus. A dim light from inside of it was just enough to reveal the shorter figure to be a teenage boy and the taller one to be dressed in the clown suit Dandy remembered.<p>

"Shh," said Jimmy, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If he hears us we're toast." He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment, thinking. "Okay... um... you run back to the car and drive to the police station. Dandy and I will stay here and keep lookout." He was so wrapped up now in the idea of being a hero that he didn't notice his friend's uncharacteristic silence or the enchanted look in his eyes, like a child on Christmas.

"Wait," whispered Maggie urgently, tugging at Jimmy's arm. "There's another guy..."

Jimmy's eyes widened. "Holy shit..." he said, more to Dandy than to the girl. "It's him. It's Mordrake."

"Oh, don't be absurd, Jimmy!" said Dandy, breaking his silence. "It's just someone in costume!"

Maggie whimpered beside him as Jimmy drew a fused hand to his chest. "If that's a costume," he said slowly, taking in the back of the dark man's head, "then he needs to win a goddamn prize..."

* * *

><p>The ghostly man's intense eyes searched the three young faces, his gaze otherworldly and tragically human at once. He seemed to have advanced upon them in a flash, sensing them and beside them in a blink, like movie static.<p>

"Who shall be the one?" mused Edward Mordrake. "Who here shall be mine..."

A shiver ran down Jimmy's spine. "Not them," he said firmly, hiding the quiver that threatened his voice. It was bad enough now that a ghost was holding them up; the door to the old bus was closed and the clown was doing god knew what to the poor children in there. The least he could do now was save his two companions.

Mordrake's lips twitched a wry smile. "No," he said, inspecting Maggie and Dandy, "not them. "Though their souls may hold some perversion, as all men's do, I do not come for ones such as them. But you, Jimmy Darling. I come for the poor, the afflicted, the _deformed_."

Jimmy nodded. To be described in such a way hurt his heart, but he knew it was true. And he had to be brave now. Dandy's and Maggie's lives were surely worth more than his; they had more hope for a future, a real one. If he could lay down his life, then at least his doomed existence would not have been in vain. Maybe he could have a nice coffin, a real one, shiny and solid, not like Meep's. Maybe he could have a funeral in a church. He'd have liked that.

Mordrake's ghost ran a cold hand down the side of Jimmy's cheek. Behind him, his pale army of doomed, afflicted souls stared silently, waiting for the Lobster Boy's story. Each of them was in some way like Jimmy: too tall or too tiny, disproportionate or grotesque or malformed.

"I sense a deep shame in you," the handsome ghost said. "Tell me what it is. And Jimmy... don't lie. If you do, the demon will know."

Behind Jimmy, Dandy was crying. Maggie was trembling, frightened by the sight of the strange man and his dead followers, but it was Dandy who really understood. Unlike Maggie, he knew the myth. He knew about Edward Mordrake. He took one freak back with him every Halloween. Now he was going to take Dandy's own Jimmy, and there wasn't a thing he could do. He longed to tear the man's throat out, to stab and dismember and bury him, but he knew that such things wouldn't work on a ghost. He was powerless. So he wept.

"Hey..." whispered Maggie softly, taking the guy's arm. It wasn't every day she saw a grown man cry. "It's okay."

"I wasn't always very nice to him," Dandy sniffled, filled now with bitter regret. He hadn't thought he really loved his plaything, but the thought of losing him now broke his heart. The young woman embraced him, hating to see someone so undone. Before he took the mask off she's expected someone far less handsome. How odd, she thought, to see a man like him behave like such a child, such an odd duck.

Jimmy swallowed. "I let my pride and my anger get the best of me," he said, surprising even himself with the evenness of his voice. He felt a lump in the back of his throat but refused to let it come to the surface. He might be okay with breaking down in front of Dandy, but he wasn't about to humiliate himself by crying in front of a pretty girl, Mordrake be damned.

"And now an innocent soul is dead because of it," he continued. He hoped to god Mordrake wouldn't make him say Meep's name. If it came to that he really would break down. "I killed a man. And what was more... I liked it. I liked the way it felt, the power I felt when I watched the last light drain from his eyes. I wanted to do it again. I wanted an excuse to."

Dandy, crying quietly into Maggie's perfumed shoulder, was shocked. Could it be that Jimmy was like him?

Jimmy's dark eyes met the ghost's blue ones, unflinching. His eyes were dry, his mouth stiff and his tone even. "_Not the one..." _one ghost whispered behind Edward Mordrake.

Mordrake nodded. "In my time," he said, "I have seen men twice your age and twice your size break down and weep like little children. But you shed no tears. You are strong, Jimmy Darling. Some might even say hard."

Jimmy set his jaw. "I'm as hard as I've had to be," he said slowly, "to survive."

"_Not the one..._" the freaks behind the dead man said, their whispers growing into an eerie chorus. "_Not the one..._"

"Thank you for your time, sir," said Edward Mordrake, shaking one of Jimmy's malformed hands in his freezing one. "I'm sorry for your sorrow." In an instant, he and all his followers were gone.

It took Jimmy a long moment to collect himself, to catch his breath and steady his hands and refrain from sobbing his heart out, before he turned to Dandy and the girl. When he did, he was pulled together but shaken. Dandy had hastily pulled away from Maggie and dried his tears.

"He went in the bus," Jimmy said. "Mordrake, he went in the bus. Come on. We've gotta follow him."


	9. Such Small Hands, Part Two

**Still hungry for more Jimdandy? Check out Take Me On by HeartO'Glass. It's good stuff. You could also read my Headcanons story if you want something fluffier.**

* * *

><p><em>I know that someday you'll be sleeping, darling  Likely dreaming off the pain / I hope you'll hear me in the streetlights humming / softly breathing out your name / I know that even with the seams stitched tightly / darling scars will remain / I say we scrape them from each other, darling / and let them wash off in the rain..._

_-La Dispute, "Such Small Hands"_

* * *

><p>Jimmy, Dandy, and Maggie huddled in the corner of the old bus, taking in the grisly scene. Locked in a makeshift cage against one wall were three kids: a little boy of about ten, a blonde girl in her late teens, and the high school boy the clown had just captured. The girl and the younger boy looked as if they'd been kept there for weeks-they were filthy, thin, traumatized. In a flash, it hit Jimmy: they were the missing children, the ones he'd heard about on the radio.<p>

He turned to Dandy to see the guy wipe his nose on the sleeve. Jimmy squinted. "Were you crying?"

"Shut up."

A grin spread across Jimmy's face despite the inappropriate setting. The bastard loved him. "Aw, you were crying! Would ya miss me that much?"

"I said shut _up_, Jimmy," whispered Dandy, frustrated.

High on adrenaline-the fact of Dandy's friendship mixed with the prospect of heroism-Jimmy grabbed Dandy's face between his two claws and planted a rough kiss on his forehead. Maggie raised her eyebrows at the guys. She'd pegged the rich one as a poof, but not Jimmy. Not that it phased her. Considering who she travelled with, gay men didn't shock her the way they did most people.

"Remove your mask," Edward Mordrake instructed the sitting clown. The clown looked different now, his body language defeated and vulnerable. He looked less like a monster and more like a man who'd known terrible trauma and pain. But surely that couldn't be the case. Only a monster could possibly have built a home like this one, where children were held captive and barely alive.

When the clown removed his toothy half-mask, Maggie gasped. She turned away, one hand over her mouth, trying to stifle the dry-heaves. Even Jimmy, no stranger to the physically grotesque, felt sick to his stomach. Only Dandy seemed unphased-enchanted, even.

The clown's jaw was gone. In its place was a raw red pool of ruined flash, raw oral innards, and a few dangling teeth. The smell, too, was horrific: filth and rotting flesh. Like the inside of a buried coffin.

Mordrake didn't seem bothered. "Think your story," he instructed. "And I will hear it."

The trio in the corner watched, still and silent. Jimmy grabbed Dandy's arm as the clown's thoughts sounded from inside of him. His voice was slurred, like a simpleton or a drunk.

_"The year... was 1943..."_

They all listened to the horrible story: How he'd been a simple-minded man whose one joy was working as a circus clown for children. How the cruel dwarves from the freak show ran him out of town with threats and vicious rumors. How he'd returned home to find his mother dead and tried to forge a life for himself alone, but failed. How he'd even failed at suicide, the shotgun in his mouth deforming him rather than killing him. How even now, his only goal was to make children love him again. How in his severe confusion, he'd thought he was doing right by them. Even now.

"You have made the demon weep," said Edward Mordrake when the clown finished.

_"He's the one..."_ the ghostly voices whispered behind him. _"He's the one..."_

Mordrake stepped forward and stabbed the clown. In an instant he fell to the ground dead. "Come with me, brother," the two-faced ghost said, extending his hand as the clown's spirit rose. "You shall be one of us."

The clown's ghost stood, unmasked now, his face whole again. Mordrake's army of doomed freaks put their hands on him before disappearing, leaving only the maimed man's dead body in their wake.

"Jesus Christ..." breathed Jimmy, his hand trembling on Dandy's forearm. "We've gotta get these kids outta here..."

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?!" cried Dandy, attempting to cover his nether regions when Jimmy's naked form slipped into the shower beside him. "Leave at once!"<p>

Jimmy raised a blond eyebrow and reached for the spray to wet his hair. "It's nothing either of us hasn't seen before, doll," he said. "Hey, couldja hand me the soap?" The fair boy lifted his arm and gave the pit a quick sniff. "I'm kinda ripe from all that running through the woods."

It had been a long night. After freeing the captive kids, they'd had Maggie take the car and drive them to the police station. More cops soon showed up for Jimmy and Dandy, taking them both in and questioning the three until the wee hours of the morning.

They were found rightfully innocent and declared heroes, but the experience was an emotionally draining one regardless-especially for Dandy, who didn't like spending long stretches of time around strangers. Now he felt tired and vulnerable and a bit grouchy, and while he'd never say as much, he was sad that the clown died. He'd been a great inspiration to Dandy, marking a turning point in the young man's self-concept. The night the clown placed that axe in Dandy's hands was the first time anyone had ever allowed him to feel any real power. Mother babied him, relatives coddled or cowered, and girls were stand-offish and rude. But the clown had treated Dandy like an equal, a man. Now he was gone.

"Gotta smell nice for Maggie, right?" asked Jimmy with a gentle elbow to Dandy's ribs. His voice belied none of the anxiety he was really feeling. The girl, as woozy as they were from an hour of cigarettes and booze, was stripped and tied up in the playroom, waiting. Jimmy wondered how they'd gotten so lucky.

"You know, it's okay," Jimmy said, peering at Dandy from underneath his dripping shock of hair. He sensed the other man's uncertainty. "I never really... you know... before either." He blushed. "Not the real deed."

"Whatever are you talking about?"

"Do I gotta spell it out?" cried Jimmy, turning so that his profile faced his friend. "I'm a goddamn virgin!"

"But you... all those girls..."

"Yeah, with my hands, Dandy!" Jimmy's voice broke slightly. He felt so humiliated and exposed now that he thought he might cry. "My mouth, even... but I never went all the way with a girl. Who's gonna want that when I've got these on me, huh?" He lifted one large hand as if Dandy had never seen the deformed things before.

He splashed his face with water. "Sex is for guys like you: boyfriends, husbands. Guys who wouldn't give you a circus-baby if they did knock you up. No one wants that with me."

Dandy, overcome, grabbed Jimmy roughly by the shoulders and pulled him so that they were facing each other. He searched his idle mind for words, for comfort, but none came. His blue eyes just stared into Jimmy's dark ones, matching bated breath, with Jimmy's staring back. After a long moment he moved his grip to the guy's face and kissed him, rough and desperate, on the mouth. They paused for an instant, biting lips and panting, then kissed again. It was sweeter this time, slower.

Jimmy had never kissed a man before. He liked guys, sure, he'd always liked them, but he considered himself lucky. He wasn't like the older guys he'd serviced in the past: he liked girls, too, and they liked him. No one would ever beat him or call him names for liking girls, so those were the attractions he'd acted on. It didn't mean he didn't still look at guys, that he didn't still think about them, too, when he touched himself.

Dandy's hand went for Jimmy's dick, but Jimmy stopped it. "Not now," he whispered roughly. "We've gotta save it."

* * *

><p>Dandy squinted down at the naked girl. She raised her eyebrows, waiting. She was lonely and traumatized and bored all at once; she wanted nothing more now than the sweet numbing fullness of his erection entering her. Before the reluctant boy could grant that wish, however, there was a thunderous knock on the downstairs door.<p>

* * *

><p>Dandy held his robe tightly around his naked torso. "May I help you?" he asked the thin man at the door. His voice betrayed more than a little annoyance.<p>

"I'm here for a Maggie Esmerelda," the older man said.

"I'm sorry," said Dandy, "but I'm afraid you must have the wrong house. There's no one by that name here."

"Don't bullshit me," the man countered, dropping the friendly pretense from his voice. "The cops told me she left the station with you and they gave me this address. If you don't want trouble, Little Lord Fauntleroy, I'd suggest you bring her, pronto."

Dandy was about to lose his temper when Maggie came running downstairs, dressed now in her rumpled clothes. Behind her came Jimmy, who had thrown on a pair of slacks and a half-buttoned shirt.

"Come along, _dear_," the man said to Maggie, taking her roughly by the arm. "You've had more than enough fun for one night, it looks like."

The girl shot a hopeless look back at them as he pulled her away, her eyes full of a kind of empty fear that broke Jimmy's heart. He knew that look. It was the look you got when you feared yourself most of all. He considered going after her, but who he saw coming up the walk next stopped him dead in his tracks.

It was Elsa. Trudging behind her were Bette and Dot Tattler.


	10. Spring Cleaning

**Confession: I originally planned to do a Jimmy/Dandy/Maggie threesome, but when I saw the episode about Dandy being so sweet to the twins and soaked up the headcanon that Jimmy, too, was virginal, I knew that the honor of swiping the boys' v-cards could certainly only go to Bette and Dot.**

**So I need your advice, commenters: Before I get down to the real action, should I write a fluff/smut chapter about Jimmy and Dandy spoiling Bette and Dot and then banging them silly? Oh god, please say yes. **

* * *

><p><em>All the traffic lights blur into a bright bouquet  My heart is in mothballs, it's been packed away / And I can't get to it, no way / Til the birds return for Spring cleaning..._

_-Neva Dinova, "Spring Cleaning"_

* * *

><p>"What is it, darling?" teased Elsa, one hand tracing butterfly kisses down Paul's tattooed torso. He rolled over before she could reach his bulge, causing Elsa's face to cloud. "Don't tell me you're not in the mood."<p>

Paul stared worriedly at the empty doll-sized bed in the corner. "I just don't understand," he muttered. "First Ma Petite, now the twins..."

Realizing that sex wasn't happening anytime soon, Elsa pulled her satin robe shut and lit a cigarette. "Oh, you know," she shrugged, waving smoke in Paul's face, "the freaks... they are wily. They get itchy feet, they run off."

"You think Ma Petite ran off?" asked Paul, incredulous, rolling back over to face his older lover. "She's not two feet high, Elsa. She couldn't just buy herself a ticket and hop the next train to Orlando. And Dot and Bette... a two-headed woman couldn't fly under the radar in Manhattan, let alone Jupiter."

Tears came to Elsa's hazel eyes. "My heart _aches_ for my lost," she insisted, "my fallen. Surely you do not imply..."

Paul's bony fingers stroked Elsa's cheek as he put on his most charming smile. "You would tell me," he cajoled, "wouldn't you, love? You would tell me if you knew anything? We don't keep secrets, right? Not from each other..."

"I have no idea about Ma Petite," she sniffed. That much was true, which Paul sensed.

"And the twins..."

Elsa turned her face, averting Paul's gaze. "No idea," she repeated. "I have none."

"You promise?" he pressed. "You didn't sell them to that rich bastard the way you did Jimmy?"

"Jimmy chose to go," she replied, turning again to face him. This, too, was the truth. Even Elsa's steely will was no match for that of the Darling family. "And who could blame him? The poor boy never knew a luxury in his life! Now he eats with a silver spoon wedged between his filthy pincers..."

"Don't talk about him that way!" Paul cried, his voice shaking. "He's a man, goddammit, a person! Who thinks and feels and loves! We all are!" He cast a gaze beneath the blankets to the two stumps protruding beneath Elsa's hips-one of many secrets he kept dutifully hidden. "You of all people should know that."

Elsa stubbed her cigarette out. "I am tired," she said. "Pained. Worried sick. If you've only come to pester me with questions, if you cannot comfort me... then go."

Her evasion of his biggest question gave Paul all the answer he needed. Frowning, he pulled his shirt back over his head and left the large tent.

* * *

><p>Back at the Mott mansion, Dandy had shut himself up in his bedroom after a particularly nasty dinner with his mother. Jimmy eventually found him curled up on his stage-bed, sobbing. It was awkward to say the least. Not only had Jimmy never seen the guy openly weep before, but he had no real experience seeing men cry in general. So he just comforted Dandy the way he'd learned to comfort women, planting a kiss on the top of his head.<p>

"You wanna tell me about it?" he asked gently, stroking Dandy's neat dark hair with a touch that no deformity could ever make ungentle.

"Dot doesn't like me," Dandy cried, his face in Jimmy's lap. His words were a challenge to understand, muffled both by his own sobbing and by the fabric of Jimmy's pants. "I know she doesn't, I can tell..."

"Aw, sure she likes you," Jimmy said, still steadily stroking his friend's hair. "She just... well, she's Dot, you know? She's stand-offish. Hey. It's okay, doll. There, have yourself a cry..."

If it had been anyone else but Jimmy, Dandy wouldn't have wanted to be touched, but since it was his dearest friend he just wept and let himself be held. He cried so hard that his shoulders convulsed. When he finally felt able to, he drew a breath and sat up, sniffling.

"You really think she'll come around?" he asked pitifully. One more tear trickled down.

"Of course I do," said Jimmy, surveying his friend's face. He knew Dot wasn't really all Dandy was upset over. "Oh, for Christ's sake, here..."

He lifted the hem of his shirt up and offered it to Dandy in lieu of the handkerchief he never remembered to carry. _Boy to the core_, Elsa used to say he was. Dandy hesitated a moment before leaning forward to blot his face with it.

"Dandy?" Bette's tentative southern drawl sounded in the doorway, soft and worried. "Oh no, are you crying? Did something happen?"

The conjoined twins made their way across the room and sat down on the bed, Bette nearest Dandy. He was about to make up a lie about allergies, but Bette seemed so doting that he pulled a wounded face instead, hoping to soak up as much attention as possible. Dot rolled her eyes, craning her neck as far as possible from her own body.

"He's just worried about Ma Petite," lied Jimmy. "When did you say she went missing again?"

"Oh Dandy..." cooed Bette, stroking his blotchy cheek with her polished hand. "You loved her, too?"

Jimmy almost smiled, despite his own worries. There was no denying that the two childlike souls had a deep connection. They seemed drawn to each other, dark-light alter-egos, a magnetic force. Bette was sweet, but Jimmy himself had a soft spot for her moodier twin. In his mind, Dot feared nothing and gave voice to the dark thoughts, the uncheerful things he often felt but didn't dare say. Unlike him, she wasn't concerned with popularity and lived only for herself-as much as a woman could, anyhow, when she shared a body with her sister.

"About two weeks ago," said Dot, answering Jimmy. "But that's not to say Elsa didn't ship her off, too. Jealous old bitch..."

"She _is_ jealous," added Bette. "Of us. That's why she took us here, you know. Since you all saved those kids the freak show's been awfully popular. Packed house every night since then. She didn't like us stealing her spotlight."

"It's you they really want, though," said Dot to Jimmy. Their eyes met briefly before hers looked away, embarrassed. "Everyone keeps asking to see Lobster Boy, the hero."

"It's true," her sister added. "Oh, Jimmy, do come back and sing one night! You've got such a charming voice..."

"...And leave us there while you're at it," muttered Dot.

"_Hey_," cut in Jimmy. "You may not have come here by choice, Dot, I get that, but Dandy has welcomed you into his home with open arms. You oughta treat him with a little respect."

He stood, wired now. "And what's more... Elsa's sacrificed a lot over the years for all of us. I know she's not perfect, but we need to think twice before accusing her of anything awful. You hear?"

"I'm sorry," Dot murmured, subdued. "It's just..."

"We're gonna figure out what happened to Ma Petite," said Jimmy. "I promise." He looked at the twins. "The man at the door, who took Maggie: You said you met him before..."


	11. The Greatest Place on Earth

**Wow, this chapter has everything. Well, everything but sex. I always end up writing more than I think I will, and I have a weird thing about not making my chapters too long. So I ended with the promise of sex, and that's what the next chapter is going to start with. Lucky you!**

**This chapter is named after the poem Jimmy sings in it, full title _Some Days the World Can Be the Greatest Place on Earth_, which is by Gordon Downie-who wasn't actually born until the '60's, but hey, neither was Kurt Cobain. A dear friend once made up a tune to that poem and used to sing it to me. So hey, I gave you a little piece of my life here. The cartoon mentioned is "Life with Feathers", a real cartoon short from 1945. Pretty dark stuff, huh?**

**Full disclosure: the last section of this chapter is my favorite thing I've ever written, fanfic-wise. It just touches me in a deep way. **

**Oh, and in case anyone wondered, this story is still going to be primarily m/m. I'm just adding a little m/f sweetness here, but Jimdandy shall remain the main ship.**

* * *

><p>It was the first time Jimmy returned to the camp since Meep's funeral. Again he wished that he were doing so under happier circumstances. It was he who had the honor of approaching Elsa when they all returned from searching the woods, he who had to hand her the little box containing Ma Petite's tiny, blood-stained dress.<p>

"Oh, no..." she gasped, a hand flying to her mouth as tears filled her eyes. "No, no..."

"It looks like an animal must have got her," said Jimmy solemnly. "This was all we found. I'm so sorry."

"No!" sobbed Elsa, her voice careening quickly into hysterics as the tears poured down her cheeks. "Oh god, no! No, no..."

Jimmy's mouth twitched, but he didn't weep. It was as if he'd weathered so much sorrow now, so much death and loss and grief, that he had no tears left in him. He was bled dry of the things-a hollow plastic babydoll, as immovable and bloodless as a butcher-shop cow.

Other members of the troupe moved forward to comfort Elsa, but Jimmy was struck instead by the way that his own mother hung back. She and Elsa were close; normally she'd have been the first one to her friend's side in the wake of a tragedy.

"You okay, Ma?" he asked, pulling her gently off to the side. Stupid question, he realized. Of course she wasn't okay right now. No one was.

Ethel shook her head, her eyes far-off and her mouth a thin line. "Gotta hand it to her," she said, staring at Elsa's convulsing form, "it's her best performance yet."

Jimmy squinted. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, Jimmy," sighed Ethel, tears coming to her eyes. She blinked, causing them to fall down her cheeks-something he really didn't see every day. "Sometimes I forget how young and naive you really are..."

"_What_ is going on here? You're not making any sense."

Ethel steeled herself, surveying her oldest friend with a look of deep regret. "She's not who you think she is, son," she said. "She plays the part of the grief-stricken mother hen, but all she really cares about is the roar of the crowd... She was behind this, I know it. She couldn't have anyone stealing her spotlight, not with that talent scout around."

"Jesus, Ma!" cried Jimmy, removing his hand from her shoulder as anger swelled inside of him. "This again? I've gotta hear it from the twins, too... Look, I get that Ma Petite is gone and you're upset, we all are, but that's no reason to go throwing around accusations like that!"

"You can look at life through rose colored glasses all you want, Jimmy," said Ethel. "But eventually it's gonna be your bloody shirt in that box, or that of someone even closer to you than Meep or Ma Petite."

"I'm gonna go," said Jimmy bitterly. "I'll come back when you're not talking crazy."

* * *

><p>Outside the main tent, he saw Stanley the talent scout, Maggie's companion, lurking and smoking a skinny cigarette.<p>

"So sorry for your loss, Mr. Darling," the older man said. He held his pack of cigarettes out to Jimmy. "Care for a smoke, for your troubles? Or, what is it they call 'em in England... a _fag?_"

"You don't scare me," Jimmy said flatly, not stopping on the way back to the car he'd borrowed from Dandy.

"You seem awful cozy with that little rich boy," Stanley teased, blowing smoke from his nostrils. "He's a pretty young thing. Bet he's got a bed big enough for two, too. It'd sure be a shame if anyone thought a strong... _masculine_ young guy like you was playing patty-cake..."

Jimmy was in no mood. "I _said_ you don't scare me!" he repeated. He knew he shouldn't give the guy the satisfaction of seeing him get angry, but he couldn't help it. "Stick to girls, asshole, or pinheads! Little weak ones your own size who can't defend themselves... What, you wanna call me a faggot? Call me a fucking faggot! Tell the goddamn world, go ahead! I've already got _these_ on me," he spat, shaking one claw in Stanley's face. "In case you didn't notice! I'm a freak already. It really doesn't matter who people think I screw."

"Temper temper," clucked Stanley, raising his eyebrows.

Jimmy pushed him. Hard. "I'm on to you," he muttered. "One more of my friends ends up dead and I'll break both your arms."

* * *

><p>The numbness inside of him came in handy back at home, where Bette cried buckets upon hearing the sad news. Bette was very sensitive. She cried easily, even at the books Dandy read aloud to her and the movies that played on the brand new twelve-inch television set Gloria purchased for the playroom. Now the TV played Merrie Melodies cartoons in the background as Dandy, brow furrowed in concern, tried intently to comfort the object of his affection.<p>

"She was just so good and kind..." Bette wept, her face streaked in black mascara tears. She'd said she wanted makeup like the ladies in the movies wore, so Dandy had gone out and bought some for her at the drug store. She'd taken to wearing it daily: pink blush, red lipstick, black lashes and eyeliner. It looked less glamorous now that it was running down her face.

"I know, dear, I'm so sorry," said Dandy. He knelt before her on the floor, one hand clutching hers and the other diligently drying her tears. "We can have ice cream floats today, or banana splits."

Jimmy looked into Dot's frozen face. "Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she replied flatly. "I'm the tough one, remember?"

Jimmy smiled sadly. "Tough doesn't mean you don't hurt," he said. "I know that better than anyone."

Something resembling vulnerability crossed Dot's face. "I'm scared, Jimmy..." she admitted in a whisper. "They're dropping like flies, and I'm so scared we're next..."

"Hey," said Jimmy emphatically, taking her hand. "We will not let _anyone_, or _anything_, hurt you. You got that?"

"It's true," agreed Dandy, looking over Bette's one shoulder at the other pair. She was busy crying on his. "You're safe here."

"When I was little," Jimmy said, "and I was scared, my mom used to read me poetry. Emily Dickinson and stuff. Here, just look at me. Look in my face and pretend I'm the only one here, like I'm the only thing in the world."

"You don't have to..." Dot muttered.

"I'm nobody," Jimmy cut in, reciting one of Ethel's old favorites. "Who are you?" He looked intently into Dot's eyes. His own eyes shone, growing rheumy. "Are you nobody, too?"

Dot's chin quivered. She tried to hold the tears back, but they spilled down her face anyway, her hand still clutched in Jimmy's.

Jimmy brushed the tears away, but more fell. "There's a pair of us-don't tell," he continued, smiling weakly. He still didn't weep, but his nose ran, a little clear stream from one nostril, as if the tears he couldn't cry were trying to leak out from there. "They'd banish us, you know..."

Behind them, on the television, a suicidal bird was trying to convince Sylvester the cat to eat him. The volume was turned down so low that the only sound in the room was Bette's sobbing and Dot's heart trying very, very hard to make her join her twin in that. She drew a sharp, shaky breath and almost laughed instead. It was funny, really, how absurd it all was: Here she was, sitting in the toy-filled playroom of a rich twenty-seven-year-old, looking at cartoons and crying while she watched Lobster Boy's nose run.

"How dreary to be somebody," recited Jimmy, "how public, like a frog. To tell your name the livelong day to an admiring bog..."

He sniffled, stopped, and let go of Dot's hand. "Excuse me," he muttered, abashed, wiping the drip from his nose delicately with the edge of his sleeve. He suddenly regretted his terrible habit of never having a hanky. He looked at her meekly. "I'm sorry."

"Sing something," Dot requested, blinking more tears. "Please."

Jimmy hesitated, self conscious. He'd never sang before without a band to back him up, and he didn't have the first idea what song to choose. The rock n' roll songs he used to sing at the freak show wouldn't sound right acapella, nor would most of the songs he knew from the radio.

Then he remembered another poem, one he'd made up a little tune to in his head once for no reason. He'd only ever sang it in his head, or hummed the tune quietly to himself while he went about his business. But he took Dot's hand again, holding it between both of his this time.

_"I'm... off... on the second..."_ he sang tentatively, his tenor untrained but tuneful by nature alone. _"I'll be unrecognizable after that..."_

Jimmy looked at Dot and Dot looked at Jimmy. Jimmy's nose twitched, likely holding back more snot. Dot started sobbing.

_"I have you to thank for this time... and your sisters before you... and your mother before th-them..."_

Bette looked surprised. Dandy looked worried. The scorned cartoon lovebird on TV thought of various ways to off himself.

_"I live with architects... architects who designed...this p-perfect life... But it's time for the grand unravelling... for the great confession to begin... for the sacrificial ideal... to hit the good Catholic road..."_

Dot drew her hand in Jimmy's to her chest, her gasps stricken like a mother or a kid.

_"Please don't cry, little architect..."_ sang Jimmy. _"If you start to cry... you'll make me cry... and, believe me... my c-crying... could make your crying... look like laughing..."_

"Dot...?" drawled Bette nervously. Jimmy wiped Dot's eyes with his front shirttail and kissed her forehead. "Don't cry, little architect," he whispered.

"Make me feel something!" cried Bette, her painted face pleading at Dandy. "Please... something other than this... this _bad_..." She took him by the shirt front roughly. "I'm so sick to death of crying..."

"Bette, don't," hissed Dot. Bette waited for the chaste scolding. "...You're makin' us look desperate..."

Dandy breathed tensely, in through his nose and out through his mouth with a whistle. "I want to," he said. It was almost more of a question.

Bette looked nervously at her twin. "You don't mind?" she asked slowly.

Dot shook her head. For once, their feelings matched-she, too, wanted to forget all the weeping, the pain and the fear.

"Our room," she said to Jimmy. "Tonight."


	12. Because He's There, and He Hates Me

**Author's note: You're fucking welcome. ;) **

* * *

><p><em>I miss your hand inside of mine  I miss the times we used to cry / When mom was drunk and yours just sucked / And everything was so sixteen..._

_-Midwest Pen Pals, "Because He's There, and He Hates Me"_

* * *

><p>Jimmy's fused hand clutched Dandy's normal one loosely as they stood outside the twins' bedroom door, fresh from the shower and barefoot, but dressed. Jimmy rarely showed his feet to anyone. They were malformed, too: the first two toes fused together on both feet and the last two fused, also, on only the left. He found those lower extremities even more grotesque, both by nature of being feet in general and because they didn't even match.<p>

"Are you ready?" Jimmy asked shakily. "Geez... did you ever think it'd happen like this?"

"I don't know," Dandy muttered, tense. "I never really thought about it." This was true. Unlike most young men, he'd never entertained adolescent daydreams of losing his virginity. Now the vast majority of the sexual feelings he did have were for Jimmy. He loved the twins, too, Bette in particular, but he had a hard time thinking about them the way he did Jimmy. Women were fragile and special, little dolls to be pampered and cherished. They were beautiful, sure, but they didn't grace his fantasies.

Jimmy looked sidelong at his friend. "You know you're still my boy, right?" he asked, inwardly berating himself for saying something so fruity. "It's still you and me." He forced a grin. "Us against the world." He leaned in and kissed Dandy, long and deep.

It was Dandy who pulled away first. "Jimmy, I..."

"Come on," cut in Jimmy. "Let's go."

* * *

><p>Inside the dimly lit room, Bette and Dot's shared body lay atop a red patchwork bedspread, dressed in a white satin nightgown with thin straps that buttoned down the front all the way with little pearls. Their toenails, round and perfect and tiny on their little white feet, were painted red.<p>

Two sets of big, uncertain brown eyes stared up at the pair of men. It was Bette who spoke first. "How..." she began, suddenly less brash, "...how do we do this?"

Jimmy cracked a vulnerable grin. "We say I love you," he said. He cleared his throat, one hand running through his hair before looking at the twins. "I... Bette, Dot... we're cut from the same cloth. I... I mean, I think we understand each other, and we've been through so much together, and sex is love, right? I mean that's what they say, anyhow, and I... I love you. I do."

"I love you, Jimmy," spoke Dot huskily.

Jimmy sucked in a breath, the charismatic smile of his sexual past replacing the little lost-boy look. He climbed onto the bed and set to unbuttoning the girls' nightgown. Dandy ended up doing most of it, since the buttons were little and tricky for someone with ectrodactyly.

Naked, the twins' body was a vision, pale and delicate and exquisite and monstrous. Their ribcage was like a cracked open birdcage, like a wardrobe to another world, their breasts wide-set and just slightly uneven. The upper half made their hips look almost childlike by comparison, fragile. Jimmy stripped his shirt off, gave a dimpled grin, and slid one half of his hand inside of them, down deep into the crease between their legs, the mossy patch of dark. It was wetter than he'd expected.

Bette and Dot had never been touched by anyone before, let alone someone built for the job like Jimmy. After the quickest flash of pain the pleasure took over as one set of fused fingers probed deep inside of them, reaching the spot that Bette's wandering fingers never could. The other half of Jimmy's hand rubbed their clit, skilled in a way that few virginal men were. Little sighs and moans of pleasure escaped the twins. Jimmy's free hand crept up and caressed Dot's breast.

Thirty years of repression seemed to come pouring out of the twins' body in the form of fluid and unimaginable pleasure. They were right on the edge when Jimmy slowed down, grinning down at them as he planted a small kiss first on Dot's cheek, then Bette's.

"Not so fast, doll," he teased. "No one's even fucked you yet."

Dot turned her head to Bette, suddenly nervous. "You first," she said firmly. "I..."

Bette had little reservation about this. Her eyes met Dandy's across the room as Jimmy crawled off of them and Dandy stripped down.

"Oh!" cried Bette as his underwear came off. Neither girl had ever seen a dick before.

Dandy smiled, his eyes alight and almost wicked, as he crawled atop the conjoined twins. "Love..." he whispered, looking down at them. "What is love?"

Bette bit her lip. "Show me," she whispered. For such an innocent, she was awfully hungry to be fucked.

Dot felt the initial flash of it as Dandy's erection entered their body, but it was really Bette who was present for the experience. She sensed it all: the way the sweat glistened off of the fine-cut muscles of his arms and stomach, the fresh masculine scent of it, the throaty groans that escaped as he felt the inside of a woman for the first time, the feeling of his dick plowing new ground inside of her.

For Dandy, there was little art to it. He was too awkward and inexperienced and overcome. Sex, even with the wrong gender, felt better than he ever could have imagined. The inside of his beloved girls was tight and wet-binding, pristine, _amazing_. After the initial tentative gentleness he fucked them like a jackhammer, pounding on top of the girls for a few desperate minutes until he cried abruptly and came. The sound made Bette come, too, her lower half overcome with a full, stinging tingle that she didn't know she was capable of. She cried out shrilly, like opera.

Dot surfaced from the ether of her dreamlike state just in time to feel Jimmy turning them over and see his grinning face, pale and elfin, below her on the bed. Naked now, he positioned the twins on top of him and eased himself gently inside of them. Both girls shuddered, somewhere between pleasure and fear. Dandy was perfectly decent-sized, but Jimmy was _huge_.

Knowing this, he took hold of the girls' hips and eased them into a rhythm, slow at first but growing quicker. "Yeah?" he whispered, trying to hold it together even though his dick felt like it was going to explode. So did his heart, but that was another matter. "How is that, doll? You got this?"

"Uh... uh huh..." Dot panted, afraid that if she said any more she would lose it completely and eat Jimmy Darling-in all of his mischief and frailty-alive.

"Yeah..." he breathed, thrusting deeper, "...it doesn't hurt?"

"No!" cried Bette, almost frustrated. Dot may have left her body for half of the action, but she wasn't about to. If Bette Tattler was getting fucked by two handsome men, she was staying present for _all_ of it.

It took a good ten or fifteen minutes, who could know-time, at the moment, was the furthest thing from any of the participants' minds. Dandy watched with intent eyes and a gaping mouth as Jimmy fucked the twins with a rhythm and skill never seen before in a virgin. Finally he flipped them abruptly, like a hero in a movie, and banged them with a rough desperation until both girls cried out, knees shaking with orgasm. Jimmy pulled out quickly after that and finished on their shared stomach, his hair a sweaty mess and his face pallid, as if he were ill.

For a long moment nobody spoke. They all just breathed hard and stared at each other in the low light, big eyes and naked bodies, devoid now of their innocence and possessed instead of a closeness they'd never known could exist. Finally, it was Dandy who spoke.

"I'll run you a bath," he said quietly, before pulling his pants on and running off to do so. Jimmy held a hand under each stricken girl's head and leaned in slowly to kiss the spot between the necks where their two forms merged into one.

"Rest up," was all he said.

* * *

><p>The next few weeks passed like a dream, like one long continuous day of girl-group records and Merrie Melodies cartoons, adventure movies and back rubs and stories read aloud; of ice cream sundaes and sweet-smelling soaps and beautiful satin or velvet dresses sewn to fit two girls in one. The foursome was inseparable. Even Dot, though she'd always like Jimmy best, warmed up to Dandy, and Bette adored the peculiar dark-haired boy more every day.<p>

The young group regressed almost to a state of perpetual childhood, passing the long days with tea parties and puppet shows and hours-long games of hide and seek in the spacious mansion and garden. They made one another laugh often, silly illogical jokes that made twisted sense only to them. If they felt the need to cry, they cried, and found comfort in each other. Things seemed to have calmed down back at the freak show, no word of any more death or disaster reaching the mansion. Even Gloria, who'd initially not wanted the twins, found herself charmed by Bette's sweet manner and Dot's quiet disposition, and was begrudgingly won over.

All that blissful calm came to a screeching halt the day that Paul the Illustrated Seal came knocking on the mansion's door. Gloria looked hesitant when the tattooed man asked for Dandy, but Jimmy, catching sight of him, nodded.

"Let him in," he said knowingly, the dread in his heart creeping into his voice. "He's here for the twins."

The girls were upstairs with Dandy, enjoying a large banana split and watching Betty Boop cartoons. When Dandy saw Paul, he bristled instantly. Gloria had followed, not trusting such an unseemly looking man in her home.

"As you can see," said Dandy curtly, "they're very happy here. They're not being hurt or held against their will. I've simply given them a taste of luxury."

Paul knelt before the twins, his eyes catching Jimmy's before turning to them. The two men, old friends, exchanged apologies and agreements wordlessly in a glance.

"No one back at the camp knows where you are," Paul said to Dot and Bette. "We were afraid you'd been killed. Amazon Eve still cries when I mention you, Ethel is drinking herself into an early grave, and Elsa is so mad with power that she's running the show into the ground. Please..."

The hint of tears glistened in Paul's blue eyes as the twins exchanged a glance. "Please come home," he begged. "All this here, it's nice, but it ain't your family. We are. And your family needs you. We need you, or else I'm afraid of who'll drop dead next."

Jimmy, sensing Dot's conflict, took her hand. "Hey," he said, his eyes dry and his throat tight. "You know that I love you, okay? And you know that no matter what decision you make, I support you, and I... I don't love you any less." He blinked, clearing his throat. "Paul's a good man. I know he wouldn't lie."

Dot nodded grimly. "I think..." she said slowly, "...I think he's right." She looked around, first at Jimmy and then at Dandy and Gloria. "I'm sorry. You've been very good to me, but my heart is with my own kind."

Jimmy nodded, tight-lipped. But Dandy knelt before Bette with a quickly growing look of panic in his face. "But Dot can't leave without Bette," he said desperately, his eyes filling with tears. "And Bette and I... well, we're in love, and love trumps all." He looked into her eyes with a pleading expression. "...Right?"

Bette's face crumpled. She looked at Dot, as if communicating wordlessly with her twin, and then back to Dandy. She reached out and stroked his reddened face, wiping away the single tear that fell down his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she said finally, her sweet voice breaking in a way that split Jimmy's heart in two. "But I choose my sister. Always."

After the twins left with Paul, Jimmy turned to Dandy, seeing a look on his friend's face that he didn't recognize. He didn't look broken so much as deranged. As if something inside of him had snapped.

"Dandy, I..." he began, reaching out for the guy's shoulder. "Listen..."

Dandy jerked away from Jimmy as if he were diseased, as if the lobster hands disgusted him. "There's nothing to talk about," he said tensely. He wouldn't look into Jimmy's face.

He took a jacket from the stand near the door and left the room before Jimmy had a chance to say anything more. Jimmy tried to run downstairs after Dandy, but by the time he got there Dandy's car was pulling out of the driveway and away down the street.


	13. In Bloom

_He's the one who likes all our pretty songs / and he likes to sing along / and he likes to shoot his gun / But he knows not what it means / knows not what it means..._

_-Nirvana, "In Bloom"_

* * *

><p>By the time night fell, Jimmy had been searching for hours. He'd been all over Jupiter, checking and double checking every bar and park and cafe and restaurant Dandy liked; asking anyone who'd listened if they'd seen a dark-haired guy in his 20's, about 5'10", well-dressed and pissed off and possibly crying. It was all to no avail. Finally, as the dark settled over the small town and a chill stung the air, Jimmy sat down on a bus bench and put his head in his mittened hands, sighing loudly.<p>

"Rough day, huh?" asked Dell Toledo, his stocky form settling down beside Jimmy. He hadn't had the best day himself. Ma Petite's death weighed heavy on his mind: the complete trust with which she'd gone into his embrace, how easily her tiny neck snapped, the sickening feeling of her little body going limp in his strong arms. And what was worse: his young lover, Andy, hadn't met him at the gay bar out of town the way he'd promised. That wasn't like him. Dell never would have admitted it, but he was worried. Jupiter wasn't the safest spot for men like them.

"Go away," Jimmy said, not giving Dell the courtesy of eye contact.

The strongman was undeterred. "Is there anything I can do?"

"At least one of my good friends is dead because of you, asshole," spat Jimmy. "I think you've done more than enough already. Now please... hit the road before I deck you."

"Come on," Dell pleaded, jovial. "Lemme buy you a drink. One drink. After that, you're free to leave if you want to."

Jimmy looked sideways at the older man and sighed again. He was in no emotional state to turn a free drink down.

* * *

><p>"...But honestly, that was the best six months of my life," Jimmy said, downing yet another shot of the foul-tasting liquor Dell had purchased at the bar. He was relaying to Dell the story of the frigid winter the troupe spent in Wisconsin one year. "I was just a guy in gloves, like every other guy... or at least, I could pretend to be."<p>

He glanced over at his enemy with a look that bordered on vulnerability. The men's conversation had started out icy, but as the booze settled so had they, into a tentative comradery. Alone, out of context-person to person-Dell wasn't so bad.

"Take 'em off," said Dell abruptly. "Come on, you heard me... take them off and give them to me."

Jimmy, caught off guard, did as he was told, hiding his bare hands under the bar. Dell took another shot.

"You don't need these," he said, shaking the leather mittens in one hand. "You don't, Jimmy."

Jimmy was about to say more when his stomach lurched, sudden and awful. He could feel his mouth begin to water, the warning of imminent vomit. "Oh god..." he muttered, standing abruptly, "I don't feel so good..."

He made it to the alley just in time, stumbling into the dark between the trash cans just as the retching began. Jimmy held his stomach, gasping as the waves of nausea washed over him and the liquor all came back up.

"My brothers could never hold their booze, either," said Dell, appearing behind him at the alley's edge. His voice was soft. "...That must be where you get it from."

Jimmy wiped his mouth and looked up at him, bewildered. "What...?"

"Come on, Jimmy," Dell pleaded. His face was a mask of stoic neutrality, but the tears in his eyes revealed the stormy emotion he felt. "I know you must know... I know some of the old-timers must have told you about the Toledo Lobster Clan... I don't know why I don't got 'em, but Jimmy, I..." He stepped towards the young man and took one of his wrists, holding the deformed hand on the end of it up in the dim streetlight. "...I gave you these... son."

"No..." breathed Jimmy.

"Yes. I... I'm your dad, Jimmy. Come on, say it. Say you're my son..."

Jimmy hesitated. A part of him wanted to throw his arms around Dell, to cry like a child into his strong shoulder until the guy's shirt was wet, to regress and soak up all the masculine comfort that he'd never known as a child. But he couldn't. He wouldn't. Dell had done awful things. He had Meep's blood on his hands, and furthermore: if what he said was true, he'd abandoned his own child.

Jimmy already desperately loved one bad, rotten person. He didn't have room in his heart for another, another bad rotten person who he would undoubtedly love fiercely and dearly and make up endless excuses for because his poor kind heart would allow no less. So instead of hugging Dell, he punched him. Hard.

He waited, bracing himself for the retaliation. In his boozy haze, Jimmy was only vaguely aware of how stupid he was for sucker-punching a circus strongman. But no blows came.

"You stay the hell away from me, and mine," Jimmy said coldly, snatching his mittens back. "Or I _will_ kill you. Unlike you, I'm not afraid to pick on somebody my own size."

With that he turned and stumbled away, leaving Dell, shocked and defeated, in his wake.

* * *

><p>After a few wrong turns, Jimmy found his way to the dead clown's old bus. All it took was a sandwich and a strong cup of coffee at a diner to make the answer dawn on him. Of course that was where Dandy was. Jimmy knew it as sure as he breathed.<p>

"Dandy?" he called into the darkness. "Dandy, it's me, it's Jimmy. Come on, come out here. Your ma's worried sick..."

The bus's door cracked open. Sure enough, there stood Dandy, dressed only in his underpants and wearing a dazed, emotionless expression. He was streaked head to toe in blood.

Jimmy lost it. "Jesus fucking Christ, Dandy!" he cried, holding his head between his hands. The smell of blood was everywhere, like copper. "Who the hell did you kill?!"

Dandy didn't answer. He hardly even blinked.

His immobility infuriated Jimmy even further. _"Who did you kill?!" _he cried, raw and wild, stumbling over to Dandy and smacking him clear across the face. He did it again, and again. Dandy let him.

"What poor, innocent person..." railed Jimmy, pulling the undressed boy harshly by one arm to the car and intermittently smacking him. "Oh god... oh god... Fucking answer me, Dandy! What did you do?! _What did you do?!"_

Dandy let himself be pushed into the vehicle and sat primly. "I've seen my purpose," he said finally. His voice, devoid of emotion, was low and husky-almost silly, like a puppet or a cartoon. "Why I was put on this Earth. My purpose is to bring death."

"That's bullshit," Jimmy said, eyes on the road as he drove into the dusky night. "And you know it's bullshit, Dandy. That's nobody's purpose. No, you _choose_ that. And you... you know, there are people who got it _twice_ as bad as you-hell, there are people who got it twice as bad as _me_-and they don't do this shit! All these things you say... about how you don't fit in, about how you never got what you needed, growing up... they're all just excuses. They're all just bullshit. And you know, maybe you're gonna send me away for speaking my mind like this, and you know what... I don't care, Dandy! Send me away. Hell, drop me back off at the freak show with only the clothes on my back! At least I got people there who love me! People who are capable of love at all!"

"What are you implying?" asked Dandy, tense.

"I'm saying your heart is cold, Dandy!" cried Jimmy. "You're dead inside!"

Dandy stared straight ahead of him at the blackened road. A tear, one that Jimmy didn't see, trickled from the corner of his eye and down the side of his nose, dripping off of one nostril. His voice was dead and even. "Perhaps you are right," he said.

They rode the rest of the way home in uncomfortable silence. When they reached the mansion's front door Jimmy hesitated.

"Should I pack my things?" he asked coldly.

"...No," said Dandy flatly after a short pause. "No, go on to your room. You can stay."


	14. Winter

**This chapter is based on the song "Winter" by Tori Amos (I know, so girly).**

**Trigger warning: bed wetting. **

**I know that this, as well as some of the other stuff in this fic, might be off-putting to some readers. I enjoy giving people what they want-smut and danger and swoon-worthy boys-and I will continue that, but ****I don't write Gary Stu's. No one gets to be the Fonz in my stories. I really enjoy writing deeply human love stories. Sometimes heroes who kick ass and take names also cry-snot and piss the bed when they're traumatized. And sometimes we love them anyway and love them more for it.**

**That, dear readers, is the kind of fic I'm writing. Can you hang?**

* * *

><p>Jimmy hadn't even known that his mother was sick. The others, Elsa and Dell and Dell's estranged wife Desiree, claimed that she was, that that was why she'd chosen to end her life on her own terms. Jimmy heard the words and the sobs, saw the mess and the carnage, but it didn't make sense to him. It played out in his periphery, numb and far, like a movie.<p>

Dead. His mother, the great Ethel Darling, teller of harsh truths and fantastical bedtime stories, fixer of busted cars and small hearts, protector of geeks and pinheads and embarrassingly sensitive boys, was dead. Gone. Jimmy couldn't cry at first. He couldn't even breath.

The funeral, especially without Dandy, was brutal for him. Even Bette and Dot were mysteriously absent, a fact that Jimmy ordinarily would have wondered and asked about. But now he was too beside himself. How was it that just a few weeks earlier his life had been beautiful, a storybook of children's games and friendship and cartoons and sex? Now his heart was shattered, and his three dearest companions weren't even there to help shoulder the hurt. He was too emotional to make it through the Emily Dickinson poem he'd brought to read over Ethel's grave, too distraught to be embarrassed when he broke down sobbing in front of everyone. It wasn't even manly crying, if there was such a thing. His were the pitiful sobs of an orphan.

Jimmy cried so hard that Dell and the rest of the men had to pull him away from the coffin. Maggie attempted to hug him, but he barely felt her embrace. He had no emotional energy left to feel it, or to remember that he was angry at the strongman.

* * *

><p><em>Snow can wait  I forgot my mittens / Wipe my nose, get my new boots on / I get a little warm in my heart when I think of winter / I put my hand in my father's glove...  
><em>

"I just... I never got to say goodbye, ya know?" Jimmy choked, downing another swig of whiskey and wiping his nose with the dish rag atop the small bar. Dell's caravan was cramped and bright, full of empty liquor bottles.

"I know, son," said Dell gently, patting the younger man's back. "She was awful proud of you, though, you know." Again his face wore the mask of stoicism he'd long perfected. Only the slight gleam of his eyes revealed his own grief. "...And so am I, Jimmy."

Jimmy leaned forward with a whimper and embraced his estranged father, throwing his long arms around Dell's neck like a little boy. He was too drunk and too broken to have any pride left, too desperate for comfort to hold onto any more grudges, no matter how big.

_I run off where the drifts get deeper / Sleeping beauty trips me with a frown / I hear a voice / "You must learn to stand up for yourself cause I can't always be around"..._

"I'm s-sorry I h-hit you..." He sobbed into Dell's shirt.

Dell gave a small, sad chuckle. "That's okay," he said. "I kinda deserved it."

"Yeah..." agreed Jimmy, laughing slightly through all the tears. "Yeah, you did."

_Tough doesn't mean you don't hurt. _That was the story of Dell Toledo's life. He didn't show the pain inside and he didn't let it define him, but he still felt it. He still hurt-now more than ever, both for the woman he'd once loved and for the boy he'd abandoned. But he couldn't weep; Jimmy knew that. So Jimmy wept for him.

_When you gonna make up your mind? / When you gonna love you as much as I do? / When you gonna make up your mind / Cause things are gonna change so fast..._

* * *

><p>He didn't remember his dreams. He woke up in the middle of the night, wet and disoriented. At first he panicked, not sure whose sleeping body it was next to his in bed. Was it Dell? Maggie? The twins? In an instant he recognized the form as Dandy's, remembering that he was back at the mansion. Traumatized, he must have sleepwalked to the other guy's room.<p>

He was soaked, though, and cold. In a horrible flash Jimmy realized that sleepwalking wasn't all he'd done.

"No..." he whimpered, turning and putting his head in his hands. "No, no, no... I thought I stopped doing that... oh god..."

"Jimmy?" muttered Dandy groggily, stirring. The two hadn't spoken since that night in the car. They'd each stuck to their own quarters, easily avoiding one another in the large house.

"How did I get here?" Jimmy moaned. "God... I don't remember coming in..."

Dandy's eyes grew wide in the dark. "_Cesare..._" he muttered, enthralled. Jimmy _was_ a sleepwalker-a real one-after all.

Then he felt the wet sheets, too. For a horrible moment Dandy thought it had been him, which further confused him. True, he'd wet the bed embarrassingly late into childhood, but he'd never done so as an adult.

"Oh god," he whispered, "...did you...?"

Disoriented, grief-stricken, and humiliated all at once, Jimmy curled up into himself and began to cry. It was a pitiful sound: a whimper, pleading and broken.

Dandy blinked. Slowly his face cracked into a sad expression, delicate and careful. "It's okay," he said softly. "Here, get up, I'll fix it."

"I'm sorry..." sobbed Jimmy into the pillow. He didn't budge or unfurl. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..."

He stood only when he felt Dandy try to lift him, staggering to his feet before immediately sitting down on the floor, knees to his chest. There was a reason he'd never spent the night with women, why he'd always left gigs early. It was an unspoken problem that only his mother had known about. In his adulthood the episodes were rarer, but trauma-sadness, grief, bad emotions-always triggered them.

Dandy cast him an apologetic look as he pulled at one corner of the bedspread. "I don't really know how to do this," he admitted. "I... you know, let me run you a bath. I'll do this... nonsense while you clean yourself up."

He did as he said and waited outside the door while Jimmy undressed and slipped into the warm water. When Dandy heard the water settle he cracked the door open and peered in, tentative, before entering.

He sat down slowly on a bench near the tub. A robe made of thin white material was tied now around his naked torso. Under the bathroom's white lights, in the steam, there was something angelic about his appearance. His smile looked wan and understanding, his chest strong.

Dandy pressed his lips together and gripped his knees awkwardly, making his knuckles crack. He wasn't sure what to say. All the pet names and familiar endearments of their life together before that bloody ride felt off limits now, not still his.

"I heard about your mother," he said finally, his voice formal and emotional and tense. "I'm very sorry."

Jimmy nodded. Dandy reached out slowly and scooped up a little of the pristine water in his hand, washing it gently over Jimmy's pale, flat chest.

Jimmy looked down. "It's so clear..." he said softly. "Clean. I never had bathwater like this, you know, not once in my life before coming here." He looked up at Dandy with big eyes. "...I was never really human 'til you..."

Dandy grimaced, though he tried to pass it off as a smile. He looked like he'd been slapped by someone he loved dearly. "You're wrong," he whispered, his eyes glassy. He tried not to blink, but a tear escaped anyway, falling and collecting at the corner of his nose. "It was you who made me human."

He sniffled, wiped the tear away, cleared his throat and stood abruptly, clutching the robe to his chest. "Excuse me," he muttered. "I should go make the bed..."

* * *

><p>He'd never made a bed himself before. The fine linens wound up halphazardly lumped on the mattress, more spread across the thing than really attached. The soiled bedclothes were shoved in the corner of the room for the maid. Dora wouldn't dare say a damn thing about them, the bitch.<p>

In the clean, lumpy dark Dandy felt Jimmy's fevered body, dressed now in clean shorts, climb in beside him. Without speaking he took the boy in his arms.

Jimmy started to cry again, choking hot tears into the fabric of Dandy's robe. He couldn't control it anymore. He longed for the disconcerting numbness of just a few days prior, for the boyish stoicism of the past fifteen years. Once he'd been a leader, a fighter, a protector. Now that identity was gone. He was just broken.

"I'm sorry..." he sniffled, his voice a child's. "I'm sorry that Bette went away, I know you were sad... I know... I know you feel..."

"Shh," Dandy whispered, stroking Jimmy's damp hair, "it's fine. She isn't who I truly love."

"What?" Jimmy gulped. "...But you and Dot never even really..."

"Not Dot, Jimmy," said Dandy. "It's you. I... I love you, Jimmy... Please, say you feel the same."

"Dandy, I... I mean I can't..."

"-I'm nobody," Dandy cut in, combing his fingers through Jimmy's dirty blond mop. A sob ripped from Jimmy's body, big and shaky and grief-inducing, like an earthquake. "Who are you? Are you nobody, too..."

The bedclothes around them lay tangled and sloppy and fragrant and fine. Jimmy clutched his friend-his monster, his poor little rich boy-and cried for his mother until he was absolutely spent.

_When you gonna make up your mind? / When you gonna love you as much as I do? / When you gonna make up your mind / Cause things are gonna change so fast / All the white horses are still in bed / I tell you that I'll always want you near / You say that things change my dear..._


	15. Devil Or Angel

**The song sung in this chapter is "Devil Or Angel" by Bobby Vee... probably the closest to a period-appropriate tune as this fic gets. **

**I want to thank everyone for all the sweet comments on my last chapter. I wasn't expecting it to get such a good reaction, but I'm very glad it did!**

* * *

><p>"What do you see?" Jimmy asked.<p>

Maggie looked up from the glass ball on the small card table. "You know I'm not really psychic, right?" she asked gently. "But I do have a gift, Jimmy: the gift of being able to look at someone and know exactly what it is they want to hear. That's all a fortune teller really is."

"And what do you think I want to hear?"

"I think you want to hear that it's hopeless, that you have no chance of a normal life anyway, so you might as well go on like you are."

Jimmy raised his eyebrows. "Do you think that's true?"

"No," said Maggie softly, tears in her eyes. "I think you could have a normal life, Jimmy-beautiful wife, sweet kids, the home, the job-but I don't think you want that. I think you want him."

Jimmy pressed his lips together, trying to let the blow of her words sink in. "Geez..." he muttered, avoiding her gaze. "When you put it that way..."

"Look, you don't belong here," Maggie said. "You have everything going for you. You're handsome, smart, charming, a talented singer... you should go to New York."

"The big apple?" Jimmy echoed, incredulous. "Listen, I may be all those things, but that don't mean shit with these on me." He held one long, fused hand up limply before dropping it, hopeless, into his lap.

Maggie stood and went around the side of the table so that she could place her hands on the sitting man's shoulders. "Listen to me," she said, looking down into his eyes. "You don't need excuses or permission to be who you are."

Jimmy had to break their gaze then so that she wouldn't see the tears her words had brought to his own eyes. He swallowed and blinked them back.

"I've been there, Jimmy," Maggie pressed. "New York. It's not like here. Men loving men, women loving women, artists and performers and oddballs of every stripe... all finding a place where they can be. Just be."

"Yeah?" chuckled Jimmy wanly. "Well that sounds real nice, Mag, but I don't have a dollar in my pocket."

"No," she said quietly, her voice choked with emotion, "But Dandy does."

For an instant the pair was silent, staring at each other as the unsaid truth in Maggie's words sunk in. Finally the young woman forced a smile and patted Jimmy on the shoulder.

"Go on," she said. "You're on next. Get out there and knock 'em dead."

* * *

><p><em>I am perfection,<em> Dandy thought, staring at his underwear-clad body in the full-length mirror and flexing his strong arms. _Full of limitless potential. I am above the law, beyond the law; I am the law itself. The man from the bar looked right into my eyes and begged for his life, and in that moment I was godlike, invincible. I was the decider. Men live or die because I say so._

He smiled, running a clipped lock of Andy's hair down his leanly muscled torso. It was a sentimental token, really, a silly trophy. Next time he'd take skin. Or better yet: blood. Grinning, he placed the red-stained lock back in the dresser drawer and set to getting dressed. He had to be at the freak show before Jimmy went on with the band.

* * *

><p>Downstairs Dora dusted silently, looking up only to shoot Dandy a glare when she heard him enter the room. Gloria was out of town for the week at a spa retreat, leaving Dandy and Jimmy to suffer an uneasy coexistence with the maid.<p>

"Where are you going dressed like that?" she scoffed, surveying his red suit jacket and green shirt.

"Shut your pie-hole, maid!" cried Dandy. "You'll speak only when spoken to!"

Dora glowered. "Your mama might be afraid of you," she said, "but I'm not. Miss Gloria may be content to clean up your bloody messes and pretend you're not half-cocked in the head, but I know what you are. Which of the neighbors' pets did you skin that time, anyhow? It looked like an awful lot of blood for a cat."

"I said shut _up_, Dora!" he yelled, his eyes brimming with angry tears. "Or I _will_ kill you. I'm quite good at it, you know."

Dora snorted a laugh. "I'll believe that when I damn well see it," she dismissed, going back to her dusting. "You little made-in-the-shade white boy... all you're good at is wetting yourself like the child you are. I know because I wash your pissed-in sheets."

Dandy's vision went white with rage. She was talking about Jimmy, his Jimmy, whether she knew it or not. And no one should ever talk about Jimmy-his beautiful wounded bird, his virtuous darling, his vulnerable one-in that way. Least of all a worthless, lowly maid who he'd hated since childhood.

In what felt like mere seconds, the knife was bloody in his hand, and Dora lay lifeless at his feet, staining the rug.

* * *

><p>He arrived at the freak show just in time, pushing his way to the middle of a row with an empty seat in it. Dandy sat awkwardly, clutching his caramel corn, and scanned the crowd for Bette and Dot. Not seeing them, he called to Elsa when he saw her making her way down the aisle.<p>

"Excuse me?!" he called over the din of the waiting audience. "Where are the twins?!"

"They aren't feeling well," said Elsa curtly, the same answer she'd given Jimmy. "They are resting; they cannot have visitors."

Dandy was disappointed, but soon forgot when he saw Jimmy take the stage. Behind him Toulouse picked up a guitar as big as he was and Paul sat down behind the drum set despite his short arms. Salty the pinhead joined the group on an old toy piano.

Jimmy clutched the mic stand with one tapered claw, looking down at his brown dress shoes. He was dressed nicely for once, in a black button-down shirt tucked into light brown slacks. They were his own things, worn exclusively at performances and funerals. He and Dandy were about the same size, but he always dismissed the rich boy's offers to share his fine clothes.

He flushed as Toulouse struck the first chord and the pretty sway of the ballad began behind him. Despite everything, he always grew nervous before he performed. Swallowing the bile that threatened to rise in his throat, he lifted his dark eyes and scanned the audience for Dandy. Locking eyes with him from his seat, the blue-eyed boy smiled. Jimmy smiled, too.

_"Devil or angel, I can't make up my mind / which one you are I'd like to wake up and find..."_

The song was an old standby, but Jimmy found the words making him oddly emotional now. He and Dandy had been companions again since the night of his accident, but it was a tentative comradery still, stiff and respectful, like a new friend or a distant cousin. They didn't wrestle and yell and be awful and tease like they used to. Jimmy felt his eyes burn and his throat start to close. He was about to run off the stage when he felt Dandy's gaze again, loving and intent, enraptured. He met it again and didn't break it.

_"Devil or angel, dear whichever you are / I miss you, I miss you, I m-miss you..."_

Behind him the drums beat, tinny and hollow and perfectly in time, the toy piano clanged and the guitar twanged, buzzy through the old speaker. Jimmy came to life on the stage. He always glowed when he sang, overtaken by the rare mix of passion and talent that kept every eye in the house fixed on the lobster boy with the voice.

_"Devil or angel, please say you'll be mine / Love me or leave me, I'll go out of my mind / Devil or angel, dear whichever you are / I need you, I need you, I need you..."_

Every girl in the place was undoubtedly taken with Jimmy Darling. He didn't see even one of them. He kept his eyes fixed only on Dandy's. Anyone who might have taken the time to notice would have known for sure that the words were for the dark-haired boy who Jimmy couldn't say he loved.

He couldn't help it. Those words were terrifying, big. He'd said them to all of one person, and she was in the ground. How was he supposed to say them now to someone so dangerous, to make himself unspeakably vulnerable to a killer, a psycho?

_"Devil or angel, please say you'll be mine / Love me or leave me, I've made up my mind / Devil or angel, dear whichever you are / I love you, I love you... I l-love you..."_

Jimmy blinked. He looked dazed, then frightened, and then he dropped the microphone abruptly and exited the stage while the band was still finishing.

* * *

><p>Out behind the circus tent he paced, running his hands through his hair and wishing dearly for a cigarette. He wasn't much of a smoker, but his nerves called for a smoke now if ever.<p>

"Jimmy?"

Dandy's voice sounded behind him, meek and careful. Jimmy turned to face him.

"Jimmy, is it true?" he asked, coming closer. "Were they... were those words really for me?"

Jimmy laughed, incredulous and horrified and confused and joyful all at once. "Hell..." he said, looking into the other man's face, "...It ain't right and it makes no goddamn sense, but I'm in love with you, Dandy... Oh for god's sake, say something. Anything. Please."

Dandy, true to character, didn't oblige. He never was one for doing as he was told. He just grabbed Jimmy by the face and kissed him instead, long and hard.

"I want you," Jimmy whispered, biting at Dandy's lower lip. "Please. I want you now."

Dandy pulled away from him and nodded urgently. "Home," he said. "Come on."

* * *

><p>Dandy was so elated that he didn't remember the mess he'd neglected to clean up back home. He'd been in a rush to go see Jimmy sing; he hadn't planned on a kill and hadn't had any time to move a body. And so when the pair entered the mansion, all starry-eyed and love-drunk, they were greeted unceremoniously by the maid's corpse.<p> 


	16. Mess Is Mine

**The title song here is by Vance Joy. This chapter goes out to reviewer ClaiClai, who has waited very patiently for this. ;)**

* * *

><p>"Oh no!" gasped Dandy, doing his best to feign shock. "Someone has broken into the house and killed Dora!"<p>

Jimmy looked disappointed-bored, even. "Don't gimme that," he said, his voice escalating quickly. "I'm not stupid! At least give me some respect!"

Dandy cowered. "I had to!" he whimpered. "She was saying awful things about us, both of us!"

"That's no reason to murder somebody!"

Dandy shrank further into himself, shielding his face with his arms. "Please..." he begged, the waterworks starting, "...I did this for you!"

Jimmy raised a hand to him and held it in suspended animation for a long moment before letting it drop. He embraced Dandy instead, one hand behind his head, and kissed his dark hair. After a long squeeze he pulled back, holding his friend at arm's length.

"You're not angry?" asked Dandy with a sniffle.

Jimmy sighed heavily. "...Love is messy," he finally said.

Dandy sniffled again. It was hard to feel godlike, like power incarnate, when your nose kept on running. "It-it is?"

_"Yes,_" said Jimmy. "God... hasn't anyone ever really loved you before?"

Dandy shook his head. While it may or may not have been true, it was how he felt at the moment.

"Well c'mon," said Jimmy. "Pull yourself together so you can go outside and start digging." He gave another, smaller sigh. "I'll get the disinfectant."

* * *

><p><em>Talking like we used to do  It was always me and you / Shaping up and shipping out / Check me in and check me out..._

It was morning before they were finished. _Mickey's Pioneer Days_ was playing on the television set in the playroom, Mickey and Minnie Mouse with their tugboat feet and big black eyes, wearing buckskin things and riding covered wagons. Jimmy reached for the Vaseline at the foot of the chaise lounge. It was still there from a few days prior, when Dandy brought it in for him because his eyes were in danger of scabbing over underneath from too much crying. His mother's death _had_ been pretty awful for him.

Naked, Jimmy lubed the stuff all up and down the length of his dick. Dandy, also naked beneath him, looked up with a put-upon expression.

"Must we?" he whined.

Jimmy smiled. The look might have been James-Dean dangerous had he not been perpetually peaked from tears. "I wasn't counting on having to bury a body," he teased. "You owe me." He leaned down slowly and kissed Dandy's hairless chest, wetly and with a slight bite. "You owe me _so_ bad."

Dandy grimaced, a childlike look. Despite the undoubted masculinity of his features, there was something oddly doll-like about him, Jimmy thought. Maybe it was the pale skin and dark hair, the rosy lips-as if he wore lipstick, or rouge. "Just don't... you know... inside of me," he insisted, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Jimmy lifted Dandy's flat hips and slid himself under them, contorting forward to kiss his lips. "You talk too much," he said, "you know that?"

_Do you like walking in the rain? / When you think of love, do you think of pain? / You can tell me what you see / I will choose what I believe..._

"Mmmph," Dandy muttered, biting his lip as he felt Jimmy start to enter him. Neither of them had been exposed to much in such matters and neither really knew how, exactly, men were supposed to have sex with each other. So Jimmy just positioned things like he had with Bette and Dot.

_Hold on, darling / This body is yours, this body is yours and mine / Well hold on, my darling / This mess was yours / Now your mess is mine..._

That was just the thing, Jimmy realized: Love wasn't messy, love was _mess_. Babies, he reasoned, were the purest love of all, and they shit themselves daily and spit up down your shirt. When they cried real tears for the first time, you rejoiced, and wrote the date down in their baby book. That wasn't bullshit; Jimmy'd seen it with his own eyes on the yellowed page. March 28, 1927: that was the first time Jimmy Darling ever wept.

Fully inside of him now, he supported himself with one hand on Dandy's chest and took the guy's hard dick in the other one, jerking it as he thrust. Dandy felt different inside than Bette and Dot had, but not worse. It was even tighter, which was better.

He didn't stop to ask questions like he had of the girls, though. Jimmy just fucked him.

_You're the reason that I feel so strong / The reason that I'm hanging on / You know you gave me all the time / Oh, did I give enough of mine?  
><em>

Dandy's eyes were saucers now, big and expensive and crystalline. It hurt, but only in a way the twisted boy enjoyed. Coinciding with the pain was pleasure, as if the great length of Jimmy pressed some strange button deep inside that he hadn't known he possessed. _  
><em>

_Bring me to your house / And tell me sorry for the mess / Hey, I don't mind / You're talking in your sleep / Out of time / Well, you still make sense to me / Your mess is mine..._

Love. It wasn't rings or roses or poetry or light. It was painful. It stung. It was rank and lovely and gilded and festering. It was snotty shirts from crying jags and pissed-in sheets from nightmares. It was bleach and disinfectant, bloody rings on floors and dug-up gardens.

And in that moment, echoed through the caverns of that room, Jimmy pulled out. He felt a sharp, exquisite tingle, at once as full as ocean waves and fine as needlepoint. He cried out. Mickey Mouse was on TV. Jimmy came. Dandy came too, making choked sounds with him.

It was love, it was love, it was love.

* * *

><p><em>"Oh my d-darling Nelly Gray... they have t-taken you-a-way..."<em>

An elderly cartoon goat wept and stammered, wracked with tremors, reciting a song of mourning for his dead-goat wife. Minnie hung her head, sobbing profusely. She made Dandy think of Bette. Mickey patted her hand and dripped tears of his own, silent but in greater volume, into a big puddle on the floor. Jimmy had to admire the guy, really. It was nice to see another hero who also cried at sentimental things.

Dandy impersonated the goat until Jimmy elbowed him. "That's you," Dandy quipped, settling in closer to his lover amongst the tangled mess of blankets on the floor. Neither of them had bothered to get dressed yet.

Jimmy's nose wrinkled. "Is _not_."

"Is so," Dandy said, crossing his arms as best he could within Jimmy's embrace and looking terribly pleased with himself. "It's okay, though. I like that about you."

Jimmy sat up, reaching for the large ice cream barge they were sharing and placing it back between them. "What?" he asked through a mouthful of ice cream. "That I'm a great big baby?"

"No," insisted Dandy, shifting to halfway sit up. "That you're sentimental. You have the soul... of a poet."

"That sounds nicer than crybaby," said Jimmy, wiping chocolate sauce from his lips. "Thanks. I like it."

He thought for a long moment, staring at the cartoon on TV, and then sighed. "I miss the twins."

Dandy looked sullen and reached for his spoon, shoveling a bite of ice cream into his mouth as if to console himself. "Me too."


	17. I Will Follow You Into The Dark

**This chapter is of course named for Death Cab For Cutie's iconic song. I thought that the two verses used were just too perfect for each boy's relationship with their mother.**

* * *

><p><em>Love of mine, someday you will die  but I'll be close behind / I'll follow you into the dark / No blinding light / or tunnels to gates of white / Just our hands clasped so tight / waiting for the hint of a spark..._

Jimmy rocked himself, huddled in the corner of his bedroom at the mansion, wasted and sobbing. He drank to dull the pain, but too often it just made things worse.

He heard his own wails as if they came from someone else, as of they were far and peripheral and not really his. He had good moments, sure, he could function at times, but his mother's death still haunted him terribly. He couldn't stop replaying their last moment together in his mind: his anger, his accusations, his haste. He hadn't even said goodbye. He wondered if that was part of the reason she'd decided to go, whether he crossed her mind as it all slipped away into nothing. He wondered if she knew he loved her, or if she'd gone to her grave thinking he was still angry.

"You're pitiful," said Ethel, startling Jimmy from across the room. "I'm rolling over in my grave." He blinked, wiping the tears from his eyes, but she didn't disappear. There she was, sitting atop the blue bedspread in a matching quilted dress and looking alive as ever.

"Mama?" Jimmy choked. He hadn't used such a diminutive for her since his childhood. He stood unsteadily and stumbled over to his mother, falling at her feet and placing his wet face in her lap. "Oh mama..." he sobbed, "mama I need you..."

"Nonsense," Ethel dismissed, though she ran a hand, gentle, through Jimmy's sweaty hair. "You've got that lovely little boy to take care of you... what is his name again?"

Jimmy sniffled wetly. "You know about that?"

"I do," she said. "And I don't care, son. I don't love you any less for it... You know, I always half suspected your dad was the same. Mighta' been why he was so miserable." Ethel laughed. "Look, I'd rather you be with what's-his-name and be happy than have you knock some poor gal up trying to prove yourself and then run off on her. That's the thing, Jimmy: you can't go through life trying to be something you're not. It sickens the insides. And all of this... it ain't you. You're no stinking drunk."

Jimmy looked up, his nose dripping onto her dress in the process. He wiped it with his sleeve. "Then what am I?" he sniffled. "Who am I? Tell me..."

"Besides a boy who can _never_ remember his damn hanky?" Ethel laughed and so did Jimmy, in spite of himself. "...You're a leader, Jimmy. A hero."

"A hero?" he hiccuped. "To who?"

"To those girls. The twins. They need you now."

"Dot and Bette?" asked Jimmy, bewildered. "But they went away... Elsa just said they had the flu, she said they were resting..."

Ethel shook her head. "They're in trouble," she said. "Elsa and that Hollywood fellow are planning something terrible, and they've got everyone else fooled. Look, I know you love that boy of yours, but you will _always_ have a responsibility to your own kind. And if you don't save them, no one else will."

Jimmy nodded, his eyes glassy and dazed. He didn't fully understand what his mother was saying, but he was desperate to please her.

Ethel wiped a stray tear from his cheek. "But you can't save anyone like this," she said gently. "Three sheets to the wind and wasting your life mourning over me. You've gotta let go of the past, Jimmy, or you'll lose the future."

"But-but wait!" Jimmy cried. He gripped Ethel tightly, burying his face back in her lap. "Please just don't go yet..." he sobbed. "Please, just not yet... mama, I'm confused, I need you... mama..."

Ethel placed a small kiss atop his head. "You've got to let me go," she said. Then she was gone.

Jimmy lifted his face from the bedspread and forced himself to stand. Shuddering, he picked up his half-empty liquor bottle and held it, staring at the blurred words on its front. Then he threw it across the room, watching it spill and shatter against the wall.

* * *

><p><em>In Catholic school, as vicious as Roman rule  I got my knuckles bruised by a lady in black / And I held my tongue / as she told me, "son, fear is the heart of love" / so I never went back..._

"I've hired a new maid," said Gloria coldly, entering Dandy's bedroom. "And I suggest you control your temper with this one."

Dandy glared at her but said nothing. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor, attempting to play a game of Candy Land against himself. He felt as if he might turn to dust from boredom and was in no mood to deal with his mother.

"Really, Dandy," she continued, shutting the door behind her and walking to her son's side, "I could overlook your little... transgressions when they only involved society's castoffs: prisoners, homosexuals... but Dora was a mother. How _could_ you?"

"She was mean," said Dandy in an icy tone. He refused to look at Gloria. "Now please, leave. I'm busy."

"You cannot commit murder at will, Dandy!" Gloria cried, finally pushed past her limit by his cool dismissal. "Do you want to end up like your father?! I won't allow it; I won't!"

"I didn't want to be this!" yelled Dandy, standing quickly and kicking the board game over. Little plastic pieces, thin and hollow, scattered everywhere with their odd tinny sound. "You made me this, mother! I wanted to be an actor, a thespian, but you wouldn't let me! ...Threatening to take away my everything, my inheritance, kick me out in the street..."

"But it isn't proper, Dandy," she cooed, attempting now to soothe him. She reached a hand out for him, but he evaded it, walking instead to the other end of the room. "It's a gritty life, full of such impropriety. And you come from such a long line of such fine people... People such as us _attend_ theater performances, not act in them. Surely you understand."

Dandy said nothing. He stood with his back to her, staring out the window and seething.

"Furthermore," Gloria noted, with only a slight hesitation, "I think you've been spending entirely too much time with that creature I hired..."

"Jimmy," Dandy hissed. "His name is Jimmy."

"Yes, well, I've arranged a date for you Saturday evening with the Montgomeries' daughter. It's high time you spent an evening with someone of your own social standing."

"I will not!" cried Dandy, so loud and abrupt that he shocked even himself. He pushed a large row of books from the window sill, letting them fall. "And I swear to all that is holy that if you force me to go out with some smelly cow I will _slit her throat!_"

Gloria pressed her lips together, a look of cold horror crossing her face. "I am fine," she said slowly, "with the... physical services, that Jimmy provides you. But you cannot possibly love him." Tears came to her eyes at the horrible thought. "Oh Dandy, I couldn't bear it... a homosexual in the family? That's worse than the occasional psychotic."

"Then who can I love?" he demanded. "I _did_ love a girl, two of them, and they weren't good enough for you either!"

"Dandy, please... Jimmy is a very nice... boy, but he is _not_ like us."

"No," said Dandy, fighting tears himself now. "No he isn't... he's better. Now please, mother... leave."

"Dandy, darling..."

_"I said leave!"_ he cried hoarsely, throwing a thick hardcover book that narrowly missed his mother's head.

Frightened and defeated, Gloria did as she was told. Once she had closed the door behind her, Dandy collapsed onto his bed and curled into himself, pulling his knees to his chest.


	18. Camping Out

**Sorry for the double-post tonight! I started writing this as the opening to the next full chapter but something (the fanfic gods?!) told me to post it on its own.**

**It's the only chapter of this fic that won't be set to a song. I can't picture any music here, just the sounds described. So I named it after the (very real) cartoon they're watching. A few notes:**

**1. Sorry Jimmy is being so goddamn teary right now. Even Tate Langdon at this point would walk by and be like, "Get it together, dude, you cry too much." But to be fair, Jimmy's kind of been through a lot lately.**

**2. Pop tarts didn't actually exist until 1964 (I looked it up), but I took artistic lisence. **

**3. How glad are Evan Peters and Finn Wittrock that they don't actually have to act this out? How much do you wish they had to?**

**4. I'm surprised and glad that so many people like my weird-ass story about crying and gay sex and old cartoons. This lil' mini can go out to HeartO'Glass, who is a girl or boy after my own heart and loves fluffy angst. (S)he could probably do without the snot, like a normal person, but that's how I roll.**

* * *

><p>The television yelped and jangled, playing some stupid cartoon about Horace Horsecollar and Clarabelle Cow going camping. Jimmy sat cross legged a few feet in front of it, next to a plate of toaster pastries he was currently ignoring, staring at the show but hardly seeing it. His eyes were blotchy underneath and he kept having to sniffle every few seconds. Tears dripped off his chin.<p>

Dandy lingered in the doorway for a minute before coming in. He came and sat down next to Jimmy on the floor, also cross-legged. He patted Jimmy's back and handed him a clean handkerchief. Jimmy took it and wiped his eyes, unfolding the thing to blow his nose into it. He didn't take his eyes off the screen. He hardly blinked.

He put the handkerchief down at his side and picked up the pop tart, taking a bite and chewing it. He swallowed. More tears dripped down. He sniffled. Dandy looked pained, as if his face might crack. The clock on the wall in the back of the playroom ticked. Horace Horsecollar squirted molasses at some mosquitos. Jimmy put down the pop tart, picked up the hanky, and blew his nose again. He still hadn't looked at Dandy.

Jimmy traded the soggy thing in his hand again for the half-eaten toaster pastry, seeming intent on alternating. Again he chewed and swallowed and sniffled and dripped. Dandy opened his mouth to speak but then shut it again before any sound could escape.

The Disney gang on the television were catching mosquitos in a pair of giant bloomers. Dandy closed his arms around Jimmy from the side, pulling him slowly close. Jimmy leaned into him, a sob breaking the silence between them as he covered his face with one hand. It sounded like it hurt his throat, that sound.

Dandy stared at the cartoon and stroked Jimmy's hair with one hand and his back with the other, letting his obsession cry into his red sweater.

Jimmy did. He was just so awfully, awfully sick of freak funerals.


	19. Flaws

**Quick warning that this chapter contains a pretty disturbing non-consent sexual scene. If that kind of thing is upsetting to you, proceed with caution. I wasn't planning on writing it-like many authors here, my stories often come to me and the characters act on their own. I took no pleasure in writing it, either, as someone who has experienced that kind of thing myself. But there it is. Let's hope these characters find more strength as this story goes on.**

* * *

><p><em>All of your flaws and all of my flaws  when they have been exhumed / we'll see that we need them to be who we are / without them we'd be doomed / There's a hole in my soul / I can't fill it, I can't fill it / There's a hole in my soul / Can you fill it? Can you fill it?_

_-Bastille, "Flaws"_

"Do you hate me?" asked Dandy.

After Jimmy had cried and mopped his face, the two had built a blanket fort anchored by chairs. Once inside, Jimmy-feeling needy and desperate for closeness-had insisted that Dandy tell him absolutely everything about his murderous hobby.

It was funny. With anyone else he would have felt proud, but with Jimmy he was embarrassed and nervous and guilty. Jimmy saw him as kind and good-even when no one else did, even when he wasn't. Laying the ugly truth out, all its carnage and mess spread between them, blew that fantasy to bits.

"Hey," said Jimmy, reaching for Dandy's arm under the cowboy-printed canopy. "Look at me, okay?"

Dandy did.

"I am _always_ gonna love you," Jimmy said. "No matter what. I might not always like what you do, but I'll love you."

His words were like a knife to Dandy's heart. It wasn't that they hurt him, but their kindness prodded uncomfortably at his most deeply wounded part, threatening to rip off the callous scab that guarded it. He had to will himself not to start crying. The last thing the pair needed now was another weepy moment.

"So... how was it?" he asked, hoping to diffuse his emotions with a subject change.

Jimmy sighed. "Brutal. They wanna bury him, but Pepper won't get up off him. She just... lay there... holding his hand. Crying."

"But someone like her can't possibly understand death," said Dandy.

Jimmy shook his head. "Nah, she does. They all do. You learn that, growing up in the freak show. These people, they know death. Love, even. That's what makes Salty dying so goddamn heartbreaking. He and Pepper... I dunno; they were simple, sure, but they had a kind of love between them that you don't see everyday. It was like they understood each other-needs, moods, feelings-without any words at all. Without even having to ask. God. Poor Pepper. With Ma Petite gone she's got nobody left..."

Dandy rubbed at the corner of his eye and sniffed. This new topic wasn't much better. "Must be nice..." he said with a soft bitterness. Fancy the picture of physical perfection, the son of the finest family in Jupiter, feeling jealous of a pinhead.

He couldn't see, of course, that he and Jimmy possessed he same connection. He knew without words when Jimmy needed comfort, and without words he provided it. Jimmy didn't have to speak, either. His tears told the awful story all by themselves. But it was all so new and foreign to Dandy that he couldn't possibly recognize it.

Jimmy sighed again, his eyes taking on a far-off look, full of rumination and worry. "I've gotta go back there," he said, shaking his head. "I've gotta. Ma was right..."

"What are you talking about?" asked Dandy with a squint. He really didn't like this conversation.

"Before she died..." said Jimmy miserably. "She tried to tell me that something was up, that it wasn't just a coincidence that so many freaks were dying. Meep, Ma Petite, now Salty... maybe even Ma herself." As he spoke it occurred to him for the first time that his own mother's death might have involved foul play, too-a thought that filled him with so much rage it scared him. If that Stanley fucker had _anything_ to do with Ethel's passing, Jimmy would rip his goddamn head off and not be sorry.

He blinked, chasing that horrible thought away for the time being. "I've gotta go back and investigate," he said.

Dandy looked panicked. "I'll come."

"Dandy, no," said Jimmy gently, fearing a meltdown was imminent. "You don't know the freak show like I do, doll. It's not safe for you."

"But I want to come!" he cried. Frustrated, he banged his fist into the floor like child. "It's not fair it's not fair it's not fair..."

"Hey..." soothed Jimmy, stroking his hair and thinking fast. "I need you manning things back home, okay? If anyone gets suspicious of me being there and tries coming around here, you've gotta handle them."

_I'll handle them, alright, _thought Dandy, but he was satisfied with the answer.

* * *

><p>"Good afternoon, Mrs... Mott, is it?" asked Stanley brightly, beaming at the mansion's front door in his suit and bow tie.<p>

Gloria looked wary. "I've already told another salesman I don't want a Kirby vacuum," she said coolly. "Our hired help does all the housework."

"Oh, no ma'am, I'm not a salesman," said Stanley. "I'm... a concerned citizen. It's my mission to clean up this town, make it a place for nice desirable families again. And I _heard_ you had a little bit of a freak problem yourself."

Gloria's face changed. "Come in," she said.

"Your son's not a homosexual, ma'am," he said as they walked in the direction of the formal sitting room. "He's simply lost his way thanks to the influence of a certain undesirable."

"Jimmy?" she asked, sitting down on the velvet love seat.

Stanley cringed. "The boy with the... hands," he said quietly. "Terrible deviant, really, a real... _ahem_... sex freak. I'm sorry to speak that way in your presence, ma'am, but it is what it is."

Gloria looked as if she could crack in half.

"But suppose I could help you," he continued. "For a small fee I could get rid of the creature once and for all. Dandy never has to know, and once the initial shock wears off he'll be the son you know again. He'll forget all this nonsense, find a nice society girl, settle down... why, you'll be on your way to beautiful grandchildren in no time."

She sipped her wine, nodding slowly. "Tell me more about this fee."

* * *

><p>"So lemme get this straight," Jimmy said, inhaling the smoke from the cigarette Stanley handed him. He didn't even need to hold the thing-it simply sat, wedged between the slightly deviated ends of one fused set of fingers. The sight unnerved the con artist, although he'd never admit it. "You... know a guy in Hollywood?"<p>

"A music producer," he said, taking a drag off his own cigarette and trying to get his wits about him. "And I've told him about you-your looks, your charisma, your talent. But you'd have to go to LA."

Jimmy shook his head. "No," he said flatly. "No, I'm not interested. I don't buy it, and even if I did, I wouldn't want it. Not from you."

"But Mr. Darling..."

"Listen, unless you can tell me why my friends keep on dying, I'm outta here," Jimmy said, sitting up and heading for the circus tent's door. "Thanks for the cigarette."

"Wait!" Stanley cried, berating himself inwardly for letting the desperation show in his voice. He took another drag and collected himself quickly. "Jimmy, I'm... I'm so sorry. Listen, I know you. I know your type. You're not the fame and fortune sort like Elsa, even if you have got twice the talent. But you... you're a family man, aren't you? You want normalcy. Love."

Jimmy turned to look back at him. Normally he'd have been impervious to such a ploy, but his heart was still fragile from Ethel's passing. The slightest recognition of his true nature, his pain; the slightest tenderness of voice or pronouncement could still send him reeling.

Stanley recognized this. "What if I told you that you could have that?" he asked. "What if I told you there was a way? That people wouldn't look at you funny anymore, that you could go out on the town without mittens... that you could... be, Mr. Darling. Just be."

"How?" Jimmy asked, his voice choking up a little in spite of himself. "You gonna give me new hands?"

Stanley flashed a mild smile. "That's exactly what I want to do," he said. "Well, not _me_, of course... Doctor Sugar. He's a brilliant surgeon, the best in the country. Same guy I've got working on the twins. Why, the two-or rather, three-of you could share a hospital room..."

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't have any money," he said. "And don't even try to tell me you'd help me for nothing. I wasn't born yesterday."

Stanley stubbed out his cigarette and stood, walking slowly to the younger man and taking the one from his malformed hand, too, before flicking it away. A grin, sly and genuine, spread across his face. "No," he said quietly, nicotine breath in Jimmy's face. He took the boy's now-empty hand and placed it between his own legs. "But there are... physical methods of payment that we could discuss."

Jimmy's stomach turned, a fact that showed in his face. It went white-green, even. "You're not gay," he said softly. It was more of a question than a statement. A wish.

"Gay?" laughed Stanley. "Me? No... I just like having my cock sucked by men."

Jimmy pulled his hand away when he felt the man's oversized bulge stiffen. He turned, tears filling his eyes as he doubled over, choking back vomit. He felt the stuff rise in his throat, but he swallowed it. It burned.

"Oh come on, Jimmy-boy..." Stanley teased. "Don't play boy-scout with me. I've seen the way you look at that little prince of yours. You can't try and tell me you've never tasted his million-dollar lollipop."

Jimmy sniffled and wiped his eyes as quickly as they spilled. He looked pitiful now and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. Stanley had the upper hand and he knew it; there was no use playing tough guy. "I love him..." he said softly.

Stanley took Jimmy by the shoulders and pushed him gently down to his knees. "And what about all those old men in hotel rooms?" he whispered, unzipping his fly. "Did you love them, too?"

Jimmy covered his mouth with one hand, both trying to muffle the sobs and suppress the vomit. Shame gripped him, fast and humiliating and brutal, shaking his frame with a violent disgust. He was disgusted with Stanley, with life, with himself. He wanted to crawl out of his skin. To die.

The standing man exposed himself, his freakish size barely registering through all Jimmy's tears. "You didn't think I hadn't heard about Jimmy Darling, did you?" he asked, bringing the thing closer to his face. "I'm quite the connoisseur of boy-faced whores... and you, Jimmy, you had something special to offer... just like me. Go ahead, open your eyes. You'll like it, I promise."

"No..." Jimmy moaned. "Please, I wanna die... I wanna die..."

"Come on now," said Stanley, pressing Jimmy's head gently down. "Don't cry. I'm not gonna make you... but you've done as much for a ten-dollar bill in the past. Don't try and tell me you won't do it now for a new set of hands... _real_ hands, Jimmy. Real, beautiful, _ordinary_ hands."

Jimmy winced. He swallowed the bile in his throat, brushed his cheeks, and wiped his nose on one sleeve. He shut his eyes then and tried to think of Dandy, of Dot, or anyone and anywhere that wasn't where he was now. He tried to leave his body, to drift off somewhere mentally where he was safe and loved.


	20. Sunday Morning, Part One

**The next two chapters are named for the No Doubt song. Speaking of names, who knew that Dandy's given name was Daniel? I read that on his wiki, and I'm going with it. Makes sense.**

**Ugh. How much do you hate Stanley? He's the worst. Stay tuned.**

* * *

><p><em>Sappy pathetic little me  That was the girl I used to be / You had me on my knees..._

"You can't pull out on me now," said Stanley, sipping his Bloody Mary in the hotel room he and Maggie shared. He sat in the armchair by the window as the morning sun spilled in, possessed of his usual self-satisfied calm.

"I am," said Maggie firmly, though her voice shook. "I'll go to the police if I have to."

Stanley scoffed. "And tell them what? You're in on it, too, little one... or didn't you remember? You've got those freaks' blood on your hands just as much as I do. Even Jimmy's dear mother... oh, so sad!" He leaned his head back and took a long drink, clucking his tongue with a mocking disdain. "...But it was a nice touch, Mags, your face at her funeral. Letting the little whore weep those big, sad tears all over your best black dress..."

He cleared his throat and put his drink down on the table with a clang. "But lemme tell you something, dear," he said, reaching for a cigarette. "Never compromise your ways for a piece of ass. Especially not that one. He ain't playing for your team, and between the two of us, he's not even the best I've had."

"You're disgusting!" cried Maggie, throwing the remainder of the drink in Stanley's face. Unphased, he drew a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the mess away, raising his eyebrows at her. It wasn't like her to be so feisty.

"You listen to me," he said coldly, "and you listen to me good. I plucked you out of the goddamn gutter when you were twelve years old. You had _nothing_, no one, and I made you mine out of the goodness of my heart. I fed you, clothed you, taught you everything I knew. When you bled for the first time, that summer, who found the bloody mess and showed you how to use sanitary napkins?"

Maggie began to cry, sitting down atop her suitcase and hugging herself tight.

"And what's more," he continued, exhaling smoke. "I never laid a _hand_ on you. Do you have any idea, any idea at all, how lucky you are? How many men would have been fucking you from the first day those tiny tits appeared?!" He stood, suddenly angry.

"Fuck you," Maggie sobbed. "I never want to see you again..."

"I _saved_ you!" Stanley roared. "Without me you'd have wound up in the back room of some shitty bar, sucking dick for pennies! A _whore_, just like your dear Jimmy."

Maggie could barely speak and hardly see through the tears. But she forced herself to stand anyway, picking up her suitcase and heading for the door. "I'd rather be a whore," she choked, "or in jail for murder, than spend one more day like this."

She slammed the door in Stanley's face and fled, making sure to make enough attention-grabbing noise that he couldn't chase after her.

* * *

><p><em>I'd trade you places any day  I'd never thought you could be that way / But you looked like me on Sunday..._

The third floor bathroom of the mansion was positively cavernous, the high ceilings decorated in ornate trim and the spotless floor tiled in marble. Huddled into himself in the gold-trimmed claw-foot tub, Daniel Mott-sole heir to the Mott's Frozen Food fortune, whose wealth could sustain a small country-wept violently, looking childlike and pale. In the bath he could cry freely. The steam mingled with his tears so that he couldn't tell the difference, and when he wanted he could splash them all away.

Dandy hugged his middle, his neck bent so that his drippy face was inches from the water. He didn't understand. Jimmy had said that he loved him, forever and no matter what. But now Jimmy was gone, and mother said that he must have run off in the night. Perhaps it was Dandy's spirited nature, mother said. It must have been too much for him, she claimed. It must have driven the creature away.

The rich boy rocked himself in the hot water, his raw, wet sobs echoing up through the vaulted ceiling. He didn't think it possible that anyone, anywhere, had ever hated themself so very much.

* * *

><p>When Maggie showed up on the Mott's doorstep asking for Dandy, Gloria was relieved. Though the girl's off-the-rack clothes read as middle class, she was attractive, and more importantly, normal. Surely she'd be a worthy distraction to get Dandy's mind off of Jimmy.<p>

Dandy came downstairs, dressed elegantly now in a suit even if his combed hair was still damp from the bath. Perhaps the clothes, fine and festive, would help him pretend that he wasn't dying inside.

They hardly spoke as he lead her to the playroom. When Gloria left them alone, Maggie took off her large sunglasses to reveal eyes that were as puffy from crying as Dandy's. They stared for a moment at one another's peaked faces before falling into each other's arms, sobbing all over again.

"I don't understand," Dandy cried into her hair. "He said he'd always love me..."

"I'm so sorry," sobbed Maggie into his chest. "I came here with Stanley, we wanted to make money, and now Jimmy and the twins are going to die because of me..."

In an awkward instant the pair realized that they were crying about two completely different things. They pulled away, confused, as both attempted to dry their eyes.

"You know, I always used to comfort him," said Dandy, still wallowing. He didn't stop to think how mortified Jimmy would have been to have a girl know such things. "I would always have to give him my handkerchief because he couldn't remember his own... and he's very sentimental, you know? He cries easily." He choked, blinking more tears. "He thought it was a burden, but it wasn't. It... it was my greatest gift..."

Maggie wiped the mascara from her cheeks, feeling slightly impatient with Dandy's sappiness. "You're not listening to me," she said. "I know where he is."

He blew his nose and looked at her quizzically. "You mean he didn't run away?"

Maggie felt awful. Combined with the desperate edge in his voice, the affect was pitiful. "No," she said. "Stanley took him. And Dot and Bette." She sat, her small hands clasping nervously in her lap. "I'm scared, Dandy. I know we have to go find them, but if anyone catches us... oh god. I don't even want to think about what they-what _he_-would do."

Dandy looked at her. It was an odd look, one where the vulnerability seemed to drain from his face like blood from a corpse. He tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket and walked over to the side table nearest Maggie, where he kept a fine bottle of cognac and two crystal tumblers. He poured two drinks, pushing one in Maggie's direction before lifting his own to his lips.

"Maggie," he said calmly, "dearest... Let me tell you a few things about myself."

* * *

><p>Dandy's car sped down the highway, the convertible top down even though it was latest fall. Maggie sat beside him, her hair tied up in a silk scarf and her sunglasses on. Dry leaves and road noise swirled around them.<p>

_From the time I was a child, _Dandy thought, _I always knew I was destined for greatness. I'd be a world-famous actor, or so I once thought, but that dream was dashed. Now I see that it wasn't my true calling. _

_Everything these past few months has happened for a reason, every character introduced playing a part in showing me the way. The clown was there to show me my true passion, Jimmy and the twins to teach me love, and now Maggie has come to show me how exactly I should use my talents._

_From the first time I bashed a man's head in I thought of myself as a senseless killer, one who thirsted for any and all blood for his own pleasure alone. But that's not who I am. I see the way now, the light. I can be who I am, live my passion, and still be good. I can choose to reenact the darkness in my soul only upon society's worst. I'll be a vigilante, enacting the justice that everyone else is afraid to. A hero._

_I was given everything at birth; everything but the one thing I truly desired. I never thought that I could have friends, true friends. It was only when I stepped back from the confines of the upper class that I found just that. It took the tenderness of society's castoffs-the vision of a woman with four eyes, the gentleness of two deformed hands-to show my dead heart love, to water the desert of my soul until it sprung up, green and singing. _

_And I shall give them everything forever in return. I will never, ever let them go..._

Maggie looked over, catching Dandy's gaze from the passenger seat. She smiled. He smiled. Wordlessly, then, she reached over the gear shift and took his hand.


	21. Sunday Morning, Part Two

_You're trying my shoes on for a change / They look so good but fit so strange / Out of fashion, so I can't complain..._

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" cried Jimmy, pounding his fist against the shack's metal wall. "God, how could I be so dumb?!"

The twins watched helplessly as their friend raged. They were a heartbreaking sight now, thin and pale, with a trauma in their big guileless eyes that would haunt Jimmy for years.

"You're not stupid," Bette said softly. Her hair was dyed blonde now, set in big curls that had initially looked glamorous but now were mussed and wilted. "You came for us."

"You don't understand!" exclaimed Jimmy, turning to face them. "I failed everyone! I failed Meep, I failed my Ma, I failed Dandy, and now I failed you! I can't save you! Don't you get it?!"

The girls came closer so that Dot's hand could stroke Jimmy's cheek. "It was never your job to save us," the dark-haired twin said. "Just to love us. And you did, Jimmy. You do."

Jimmy shook his head. "We're gonna rot in here," he said. "I know it. We've been tricked, tricked and trapped. That asshole is gonna leave us to die in this place then he's gonna take everything. And it's my fault."

Bette forced a wan smile. "Back on the farm," she said, "whenever Dot and I were scared, when it was stormy or mama was angry... we'd pray."

Bitter tears came to Jimmy's eyes. "I don't believe in God," he whispered. "Not a God who would create the likes of us."

Bette nodded. "That's okay," she said, but when the twins' shared body knelt to the cold floor, it took only the lightest touch to make Jimmy kneel with them.

_"Lord,"_ whispered Bette, her voice shaking as she bowed her head and reached for Jimmy's hand. _"Make me an instrument of your peace. Where there is hatred, let me sow love." _Tears dripped from her closed eyes. Dot was crying, too. She reached blindly for Jimmy's other hand and he took hers, completing the circle.

_"Where there is injury, pardon; where there is discord, harmony; where there is error, truth; where there is doubt... faith."_

Jimmy hung his head and tried to feel the presence of the God he didn't believe in. He closed his eyes and tried to see the deity, the light, but all that appeared behind his lids was blackness. He heard Bette's voice, though, her sweet southern drawl choked with emotion. It filled him with the kind of inner warmth churches talked about, that slowly creeping comfort. It wasn't God; but it was love, Jimmy figured, and God was that.

_"...Where there is despair, hope; where there is darkness, light; where there is sadness... joy. Oh divine master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console; to be understood as to understand; to be loved as to love..."_

Bette's voice broke and a draft blew through the locked shack, chilling them. It was cold and shut up and dark, and Jimmy had no idea how much time had passed or whether it was day or night. He gripped the twins' hands tighter in his lengthy, clumsy claws. If they died, he realized, if this really was it, then at least they died together. As much as he loved Dandy, the twins understood him on a level that no normal-bodied person ever could. The bond between freaks was a special one, as unspoken as it was unbreakable.

If they died in there, Jimmy Darling thought, if Stanley never came and Dandy never found them and they starved and rotted, at least he died loved.

_"For it is in giving that we receive;" _Bette whispered, _"It is in pardoning that we are pardoned... And it is in d-dying that we are born to eternal life.."_

The girls' choked sobs were the only sound in the room, their hands in his all he could feel. A tear trickled down from beneath Jimmy's eyelashes, unseen and falling.

* * *

><p>The girl outside of the gas station rest stop was a sorry sight, tarted up with too much cheap makeup and too tight a dress. She cowered, the flat plane of her face contorting in fear as the older man yelled at her.<p>

"Excuse me, sir?" said Dandy, stepping forward from the spot where his car was filling with gas. Maggie tried to hold him back but he ignored her.

"Unless you wanna buy this little screw-up for the night, I don't wanna hear it!" the graying man barked, barely turning to look at him. "She ain't made me a goddamn penny in days!"

The prostitute cast a terrified glance at Dandy under the glow of the dim street lamp. Initially he'd cared little for the girl. The man was being noisy and disturbing his train of thought, and all self-righteous monologuing be damned, Dandy was ready to stab him then and there for it. But then he noticed that the cast of her face and her stout, blunt body marked her as simple, the product of a chromosomal abnormality.

_Freak. _His heart steeled and his blood ran cold.

"Haven't you read the Bible, sir?" he asked, icy-polite. Dandy wasn't a religious man, but now the old scripture came to him, so relevant and pointed that he felt it in his bones.

"I ain't got no time for you door to door preachers," the man grumbled. "Take it elsewhere."

Dandy's mouth twitched a smile like cold steel. "And the king will say," he said evenly, drawing his mother's pistol from his suit pocket, "'Truly I say to you, as you did it to one of the _least _of these my brothers, you did it to _me.'_" Then he aimed the gun and pulled the trigger. The old man died instantly, shot point-blank in the back of the head.

"Holy shit, Dandy!" gasped Maggie, looking as far as she could see in either direction for someone who might have seen them. But it was deepest night and the country road was deserted.

Dandy went to the young woman, peering down into her shocked face. "What is your name, dearest?" he asked mildly.

"D-D-Daisy..." the girl trembled, tears making tracks in her grotesque makeup.

"Daisy, I know of a place for you," he said. "One where you'll be protected, safe. I swear on my family's name no one will ever violate you again. Maggie!" He turned to his companion, still lingering nervous by the car. "Drive Daisy here to the freak show and tell one of the good ones to look after her."

"Wait, who?"

"Oh, I don't know! The fellow with the strange arms or something, he seemed nice! Do as I say. I'll stay here and dispose of this trash."

* * *

><p>"Are you sleeping?" asked Maggie softly. She and Dandy lay side by side in the double bed of the cheap roadside motel room they'd rented for the night. It wasn't what he was used to, but they couldn't risk being seen checking into one of the better-known hotels in town.<p>

"No," said Dandy tensely.

Maggie bit her lip, sullen in the dark. "Me neither."

Dandy sighed heavily and began to rise, but Maggie's hand on his arm stopped him. "Hey," she said softly. "Come on. You've gotta sleep sometime."

"What if we're too late?" he moaned, lying back down beside her. "What if they die? I simply have to think of something, something tonight..."

Maggie's face clouded. "If they die," she said, her voice catching slightly, "it'll be my fault. Not yours."

"Don't be absurd," he muttered. "You've done nothing."

"You don't know," she said bitterly. "The things I've done, Dandy... You're not the only one with blood on your hands."

"So you've killed?" he dismissed. "So has Jimmy. Bette, even. It's fine."

"No," said Maggie, shaking her head. "I mean people Jimmy knew, ones he loved... Ma Petite, Salty, even... even Ethel. I didn't mean to, Dandy, and I didn't pull any triggers, but they're still dead because of me. Me and Stanley. But he was the only parent I ever knew and I was just so scared, and... God, no. No. There's no excuse."

Dandy hesitated a moment before silencing her with a kiss. He had little in terms of a conventional sex drive and even less of that was geared towards women, but the thrill of a kill always whet his appetite for physical pleasure. That, and he was silencing fears of his own, finding solace in her kiss.

Maggie did the same. After a prolonged liplock he moved further down, lifting her half-slip and pulling aside her satin panties. Maggie gasped when his tongue touched her nether regions. He'd never done it before, but he took cues from her, teasing her open with the tip of his tongue and lapping at her clit until she cried out softly with orgasm and pushed him away. The taste to him was sweet but somehow primal, too, like the smell of the blood he brought forth in his victims.

The murderous pair stripped quickly in the semi-dark and Dandy climbed atop Maggie with eager force, biting at her neck while she tugged at his hair. He was used to holding Jimmy and she felt tiny in comparison, birdlike where Jimmy was solid. He pinned her delicate wrists down and slipped inside of her, wet and easy.

Maggie freed her arms and wrapped them around Dandy, pulling him close as he thrust, making the bed shake and clatter against the cheap wall. Her small breasts, soft and shallow on her narrow chest, pressed against him. Dandy was an average-sized man, but he felt incredibly strong in her arms, each muscle solid and forceful and hard. He didn't feel like any of the other men she'd been with. His skin and hair were softer, as if he'd known less physical hardship. He even _smelled _expensive, she thought. Like fine soap and new leather.

They held tight to one another and fucked desperately, as if in a frantic search for comfort; a need to forget.

* * *

><p>Jimmy didn't know how long it had been, whether it was mere hours or days. Their water supply was running low, as was the small ration of bread and fruit Stanley had left them with. It was as if he could feel his bones freezing, his rib cage collapsing with hunger inside him, his stomach folding in on itself with emptiness. He sat with the twins atop the small cot and held them, wanting them warm. He hoped his heart went first.<p>

When the door to the shack cracked open, he was shocked to see light. He expected to see Stanley, but instead a man no older than himself stepped inside, dressed in blue scrubs. Jimmy squinted. He'd never seen the guy before.

"Hello," the young man said nervously. "I'm Doctor Sugar. I'm here to perform your... um... operations?"

A chill ran down Jimmy's spine. This couldn't be right. This man looked too young to be a doctor, and his stilted way of speaking suggested a child in a Christmas play more than it did a brilliant surgeon.

Dot and Bette hung back, similar reservations showing in their faces. Jimmy swallowed his fear and stood up, stepping forward. "Me first," he said.

The twins moved from the cot and let Jimmy lie down. From his prone position he saw the young doctor's mouth twitch, as if he were frightened or sad. _"Just like puppies..."_ he muttered, reaching into the large bag he carried.

"What?"

"N-Nothing. Lie down, Mr. Darling, and I'll administer the anesthesia. You won't feel a thing."

The syringe only looked half full. Jimmy held back tears, resisting with every bone in his body the urge to jump up, to panic, to run.

Dot came close and took his hand. "Don't cry, little architect," she whispered. Jimmy took one last look at the hands heredity cursed him with before focusing on her face. He felt the needle slide into a vein in his wrist. Dot was the last thing he saw before it all went black.


	22. Little Lion Man

**Getting into the thick of things! I worry sometimes that I update this too much, but I have to accept that I'll never be the writer who updates at the same time every week in even spurts. This story has just come to me so easily, as if it were writing itself, and when it does I feel eager to share it. I already have the next two chapters planned.**

**Tell me what you think in the comments! Will Dandy's Dexter act last? Were he and Maggie as Bonnie and Clyde a ton of fun? What horrible fate will Stanley meet at the hands of our monsters? Are you catching all the past-season references I make? Tate, Kit, and Kyle each get a nod this chapter. See if you can find 'em!**

**A few credits: This chapter is named for the Mumford & Sons song, and the white farmhouse in its last segment was inspired by the latest chapter of the fanfic A Winter In Wisconsin by NotMarge. Which I recommend, by the way!**

**And as always, a big thank you to all my loyal reviewers and readers! You make me happy!**

* * *

><p>It was morning when Maggie and Dandy finally found the place. Thankfully the door was no longer locked. The story they got out of the frightened twins was that the supposed surgeon had panicked and run away when Jimmy passed out. Dandy ran to his lover and placed a hand on his wrist, fearing the worst, but he felt a faint pulse.<p>

They dropped Bette and Dot off at the freak show, where Paul agreed to take care of them and hide them in his trailer. They all knew that the conjoined girls would attract far too much attention at the hospital.

Dandy lied to the hospital staff, saying that Jimmy was his cousin, another Mott heir, and that his hands were a recessive family trait dating back centuries. A sign of aristocracy, he said. He flashed money at the doctors and nurses and told them very sternly that he expected his dear cousin to receive the best possible care.

After that, it was a waiting game. Maggie was on edge and Dandy felt helpless, which made him angry. What use was money, he wondered, if it wasn't absolute power; if it couldn't end comas or cure sickness or resurrect the dead.

* * *

><p><em>Weep for yourself, my man  you'll never be what is in your heart / Weep, little lion man / you're not as brave as you were at the start / Rate yourself and rake yourself / Take all the courage you have left / And waste it on fixing all the problems that you made in your own head..._

Dandy knelt in the hospital chapel, staring up at the small pane of stained glass and trying to feel something holy, something powerful. All he felt was the discomfort of the hard floor against his knees and the light pressure of the young woman's hand on his back. He unclasped his hands and sighed.

"This isn't working," he said impatiently, standing.

She gave a nervous smile. "God's work is often unseen."

He sighed again and sat down beside her in the front pew. She was a young woman, barely out of girlhood, dressed demurely in a green velvet dress with long sleeves and a skirt that reached her ankles. Her blonde hair was pinned back in a bun.

"What did you say your name was?"

"M-Mary Eunice..." the girl answered, blushing at the attractive man's attention. She scolded herself inwardly. Such lust was hardly godly.

"And you're how old?"

"Seventeen."

Dandy nodded. "You're a nun?"

"Well, not yet. But I'm studying to become a bride of Christ, yes."

"I see." Dandy stretched his legs out in front of him and clasped his hands idly in his lap. "Mary Eunice," he said, avoiding her eyes, "you must know the mind of God. Better than myself, anyway. Tell me... does he punish the wicked? While still on Earth, I mean. Do bad things happen to bad people?"

Mary Eunice looked flustered. She didn't like the chapel work for this very reason: people were always coming to her with uncomfortable questions and expecting answers that were both comforting and true. It was an awful lot of pressure. She wished that one of the Sisters were there to help her.

"Well, um..." she stuttered, twisting her hands in her lap, "...not directly, always. Karma is a Buddhist concept, not one of Christ. But, um... people do reap what they sow, yes. I do believe that."

Dandy nodded with tight lips. "My friend is very... sick," he said quietly, his eyes glassy. "And for him to die, though he's innocent, would hurt me. Look at me, do you understand?"

Mary Eunice obeyed, her face the picture of timidity as she stared into his.

"It would hurt me terribly," he continued, "and few things do. I am not a... feeling person, Mary Eunice. Mine is not a heart that loves easily."

"Oh, surely Mr. Mott," she said, "you're capable of more love than you realize..."

_"No,"_ he said firmly, making her shudder before his eyes clouded. "Just tell me, Sister..." he asked quietly, a tear falling down one cheek. "...Will _he_ die for _my_ sins?"

Mary Eunice wiped the tear upon pure instinct before pulling her hand away quickly, chiding herself again for the inappropriate reaction. "My child..." she whispered.

"I am no child of yours."

She nodded. "Kneel with me," she said, her demeanor somewhere between panic and exhilaration. "We'll pray."

Dandy did as she said, letting the young girl take his hands and force them, clasped, inside her smaller ones.

"You don't understand," he sniffled. "I have no soul to save."

"Oh, but of course you do," she gasped. "Why, look, you're weeping."

"That means _nothing_," he hissed. It was true. His tears were for Jimmy and for himself. For his victims-even the innocent ones-he still felt nothing.

"We are _all_ sinners," she insisted, "every last one of us."

"But the things I've done, Mary Eunice..."

"Shh," she whispered, pulling him close as best she could with his hands still clasped in hers. He leaned into her shoulder, hiding his face there. She huddled close and whispered softly, reciting fervent prayers.

Dandy wept.

* * *

><p><em>Tremble for yourself, my man  You know that you have seen this all before / Tremble, little lion man / You'll never settle any of your scores / Your grace is wasted in your face / your boldness stands alone among the wreck / Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck..._

When Jimmy walked into the light he found himself in front of an old white farmhouse. The air was warm and heavy with summer, cooled by the faintest breeze. It was the thin, dusky hour just before sunset, when the sun lay low and the shadows were mild and gray.

His mother was there. She hummed softly to herself while she hung clothes on a wire line. Beside her, Meep swiped happily at white moths with a net and a few feet off from them Salty held Ma Petite, laughing as they chased lambs. Jimmy smiled.

Ethel looked up from her laundry. "Good lord, Jimmy," she chided, rolling her eyes. "Of all the bone-headed things you've done in your life, this has gotta be the dumbest. Agreeing to let that man slice and dice you... Is that what you wanna be? A Frankenstein monster, sewn back together with someone else's parts?"

Jimmy hunched his shoulders, ashamed now. Ethel had always had a real talent for bringing that out in him. "I just want to be normal," he said sheepishly.

"Well too bad," she said, "that ain't the hand you were dealt. If you'd just accept that and play the cards you got, you'd realize what a gift they actually are. How much you can do with 'em."

Jimmy looked around at his dead companions. Salty was still microcephalic, Ma Petite was still tiny, and Meep was still... well, Meep. "Is this heaven?" he asked.

Ethel squinted a smile. "Somethin' like that."

Jimmy looked again at the three frolicking freaks. "Weird," he muttered. "I guess I always figured they'd be whole here."

"They were whole to begin with," his mother said. "It's the world that was broken."

Jimmy hung his head, taking a moment to reflect on just how goddamn stupid he was. "These hands are a gift?" he asked finally, looking up at Ethel.

She nodded. "Those hands made Dandy trust you. When he looked at them, he saw on your outsides everything that he felt on his insides. It's what made him want to know you, have you, open up. You brought love to a heart that didn't think it could feel love."

"But he'll always be a monster?" Jimmy asked. Really it was something between a question and a tentative statement.

"Yeah," she said, waving a dismissive hand, "but you're well versed in monstrosity. His just looks a little different than the sort you're used to."

He nodded, taking it all in. "So what do I do now?"

"You turn around," said Ethel, her voice choking up a little, "and you go back, baby. You go to him."

With tears in his eyes, Jimmy turned and walked away from the farmhouse, into the sunlight that was setting over the hill. It grew brighter around him until all he saw was white, then blackness. Then he woke up gasping in his hospital bed, Maggie and Dandy by his side.


	23. Arrows

**All the lyrics quoted here are from the song "Arrows" by Fences. Aside from songs, I do lots of little homages in this thing. The "I'm simply not there" line is from the movie American Psycho. The bit about "fear and joy and vulnerability" is actually something Dandy's actor said about the character in an interview I read. **

**Also, if I've been skimping on slash, worry not. There's some next chapter.**

* * *

><p><em>My old man, he kicked me out  He kicked me out / when I told him that I lived this way / I lived this way / I lived this way / He doesn't own me / He doesn't own me..._

In the cavernous playroom, vast and immaculate, Dandy did push-ups. He did sit-ups and arm curls and rubbed his muscled body sleek with oil. He shaved and dressed and stared into the mirror at his white, symmetrical, masculine face. His gaze bore hard into the reflection of those blue-green eyes, trying to the see depth somehow. He searched his own eyes for the stories, for the fear and the joy and the vulnerability, for the life that Jimmy's had, but they were as shallow and opaque as mud puddles.

_I'm not there, _Dandy Mott though. _I'm not there, I'm not there, I'm simply not there._

He walked quietly to the bedroom where his mother still slept. After leaving the hospital Dandy had returned home without Jimmy, telling his mother that he'd been out searching for the winter squash she liked. After all, he'd said, Dora wasn't around any longer to do such things. He needed to make himself useful.

_The black rims align your face / like a deer drinking water in a picture frame / I swear to God I've seen those eyes / The back of my lids when closing mine..._

He gazed down into Gloria's gently wrinkled face. He'd never noticed before just how sad the worry lines beneath her eyes were, how tense and solemn the ones around her mouth.

Dandy smoothed her hair and stooped to gently kiss it. Jimmy wasn't the first person to unconditionally love him, he realized. She was. What a shame, he thought, that she had gotten in the way.

_With clasped hands we shake it out / We shake it out / Lace up boots and we walk away / I felt slightly connected to him / and said, "now boy, now you own me"..._

Dandy straightened and reached into his suit jacket for the gun. Tears welled in his eyes and he smiled slightly, tilting his head. He placed the pistol against his mother's temple and pulled the trigger.

* * *

><p><em>He doesn't sleep  So in truth he never wakes up / Another day rushing to his death / Out of breath on a treadmill of the famous / He makes mistakes / tells stories to his paintbrush / And when the world finally sees his art / he wishes that he never would have made it / Just escape / Just escape / Ricochets and eclipses faith / Living in a city with a gray umbrella over your shoulders / and you're becoming suffocated by the weight / Can't hit those breaks / So this is what you wanted, huh? / But you got it all in vain / Cause you forgot who you are / right as the world learned your name..._

In the silent caravan Dell Toledo avoided his own reflection. He couldn't bear to see the lies that lived there, the truth he hid behind his eyes now made apparent by the bruising on his neck; revealing him as weak.

"So you thought it was all good and well, huh?" said Jimmy, entering without knocking. "Make me an orphan?"

He walked to Dell's bedside and sat down awkwardly. Since being back at the camp he'd avoided his father's caravan, having heard from the others about the strongman's suicide attempt. Jimmy was terrified that if they spoke he might cry-or worse yet, that Dell would. That was something he _really_ didn't want to see.

"I'm no father to you," said Dell sullenly, avoiding Jimmy's gaze. "Never was."

Jimmy shrugged. "Maybe not, but life ain't over. Right? We could try..."

Dell shook his head. "I don't deserve that," he said, looking at Jimmy with a world of pain in his eyes. "Not after what I did, Jimmy."

"Because of Meep?" Jimmy asked. "Look, I forgive you for that. I know you were just looking to frame somebody. You didn't mean for him to die."

"No, son..." said Dell quietly, as close to tears as he'd been since childhood. "That isn't all. Ma Petite, the little Indian girl..."

Jimmy looked like he'd been smacked. "Wait, what?" he whispered, squinting. "No dad... no... I mean you were out looking for her, out in the dark with the rest of us... You couldn't have..."

_"I'm a fraud!"_ he cried, slamming his fists down onto the sides of the small bed. "My whole life is a lie. I'm so sorry... You see, I was seeing a guy... out of town at the bar where the fellows all dance, you know? I was seeing him, and Stanley found out. And he... well he wanted a freak, a dead one, you know that. He wanted you, Jimmy, but I couldn't do that. Not to my own son..."

"That's bullshit," said Jimmy, his eyes glazing over with cold rage. "You didn't give a shit whether I was your son or not! You just didn't want to bother with me when there was such easier pickings!"

"No, son," he pleaded. "Please, it wasn't like that..."

"At least I'd have some respect for you if you'd gone after me!" he cried, standing. "I wish you had, but nah! You went instead for the littlest, for the one complete innocent! And to then try and get all buddy-buddy with me, help me out, make me trust you... You disgust me."

He grabbed a knife from the counter and stood, trembling with anger as he held it above Dell's sitting form. Dell waited, hoping that Jimmy would finish the job. But he lowered the knife instead.

"I'm not gonna kill you," he said. "I said no more killing, and if I do then I'm no better. But lemme tell you, Dell... I want you gone from here by _tomorrow_, do you hear me?!"

Dell nodded.

"And I don't ever, _ever_ wanna see you again. Or God help me, I'll break my own promise._"_

* * *

><p><em>And I'm so caught up  I'm caught up / I'm caught up and I'm so tired / Swore I wouldn't stare into the light / and guess who tried it / I'm blinded by this limelight / This limelight / It's all night, it's all day / These bright lights, these bright lights / once you turn them on you can't walk away / Don't die here / Don't die here / I came too far, I'm too great / But I'm too scared and too afraid / to stare this world into its face / I'm almost home / I'm driving lost / My eyelids closed, light turns to gray / The cameras off, the show is over / You close the curtains and just escape..._

The moment Jimmy opened the door to the mansion, he knew. There was no trail of blood, no scent of copper, but he knew none the less. There was something in the air. It was too silent, too still.

He followed his intuition to find Dandy curled up in the corner of the master bedroom, rocking himself and sobbing hysterically. His mother's corpse lay in the bed at the center of the room.

Jimmy knelt beside him. "Hey..." he whispered, as if he were talking to a shy deer, something wild but not predatory. He put a tentative hand on Dandy's shoulder before gathering him up into his arms, rocking him the way he had been rocking himself.

"I'm a freak..." Dandy sobbed into his shoulder, barely coherent. "I'm a freak..."

Jimmy was all out of lies. Even soothing ones, even kind ones; he was bled dry. "I know, doll," he said gently, stroking Dandy's clean hair. "I know..."

_I lived this way / I lived this way / I lived this way / I lived this way..._

* * *

><p>It took a while for Dandy to regain his composure, but once he did Jimmy sprang into action. He reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, offering it to his friend. For once in his life, he'd remembered to carry the god forsaken thing.<p>

Dandy looked confused.

"It's my handkerchief," Jimmy said, his fair eyebrows inching up. "I'm gonna call the police, okay? I'm gonna dispose of this murder weapon, and you're gonna take this and dab at those pretty eyes all sad-like, and I'm gonna put on a pair of mittens and do the talking. And no cop in town is going to _dare_ suspect the grief-stricken son of the finest family in Jupiter."

Dandy looked unsure, but he took the hanky and nodded weakly.

Jimmy smiled. "I dunno where that piece of shit Stanley is, but Maggie gave me a little something of his. I might even mention that I know he's been hanging around here. And I don't think anyone would be all that surprised to find the wallet of a known con artist at the murder scene of the richest woman in town..."


	24. You And I

**Mmm... This chapter. I have a special place in my heart for absolute fluff about the most fucked-up psycho characters and absurd pairings possible. The title song featured is by Ingrid Michaelson, and while I get that not everybody listens to the songs with the chapters... go look this one up on YouTube. Go on, I'll wait. I usually have a pretty low tolerance for cutesy stuff (unless it also involves horror/murder/death), but even I have to say... if you can listen to this song without getting a great big smile on your face, you have no soul. ;) **

**(But you've made it this far reading a story about Jimmy Darling crying at cartoons on Dandy Mott's shoulder, so duh you have a soul.)**

* * *

><p><em>Don't you worry there my honey  We might not have any money / But we've got our love to pay the bills..._

Light spilled in the window, sparkling off the slight morning frost on the trees and making their shadows sway and dance across the blankets. Jimmy's sleepy eyes stared across the bed at Dandy's as he cracked a crooked, dimpled grin. In an hour or so the house would be packed, full of bodies and voices and appetites and feelings. But not yet. For now it was quiet.

"Merry Christmas," Jimmy said, leaning over to push Dandy's hair back and kiss his forehead.

Dandy looked awkward but pleased-his usual look, really, when he wasn't being conniving or saying things that would worry therapists terribly. "Merry Christmas," he repeated.

Jimmy sidled close to him, planting his face dangerously close to the other guy's armpit. "You smell nice," he muttered.

From somewhere in town church bells sounded, melodic and distant. Dandy crept a hand up the bottom of Jimmy's tee-shirt, caressing his flat stomach. "...Can I?" he asked tentatively, stopping himself before it wandered too far south. "You're okay?"

Jimmy smiled. "Yeah," he said. "I'm still a little fucked up about it, but I'm okay. I'm tough, remember?"

Once Gloria had been properly taken care of, Jimmy hadn't said anything about what happened with Stanley. Not for a while, anyway. He'd acted strange for a good three days before finally confessing the whole sorry thing during a particularly soul-wrenching crying jag in the shower. It wasn't his manliest moment, nor his best-adjusted one. That was for damn sure.

Dandy gave a teasing laugh. "Hardly. But it's no bother. With your charm and my acting skills... we put him away."

Jimmy's grin cracked wider. "Yeah we did," he chuckled. "He's right where he always belonged now: Rotting in jail. I _hope_ they send him to prison... You're right, though. It's you and me now. There's nothing we can't do together."

_Maybe I think you're cute and funny / Maybe I wanna do what bunnies do with you / if you know what I mean..._

Jimmy pushed the hair out of his own eyes and hoisted himself on top of his bedmate, straddling him as Dandy pushed himself up to the sitting position, his back against the headboard. Jimmy's took Dandy's five-o'clock-shadowed face in between his fused hands and they kissed, tongues teasing and lips biting as Dandy ran his hands up and down the length of Jimmy's thin back. Gradually he pulled Jimmy's shirt off, then his own.

"Mmm," he muttered, pulling his mouth away from Jimmy's firm bite to reach for the guy's erection. "Hold on..." he murmured, still a little awkward with sleepiness, before promptly swilling spit into his hands. Jimmy wriggled quickly out of his shorts and let Dandy grab his dick in both slick hands, one holding the base steady and the other teasing the tip with a passionate jerk.

Jimmy giggled-that was the only word for it, really-and ran a hand up and down the accordion-muscles of Dandy's abdomen, imagining that they made music. He was never quite awake until he'd had a cup of coffee, and now he placed his forehead sleepily atop his lover's warm shoulder. "What're you gonna do if I come, huh?" he slurred, teasing.

"The same thing I do when you cry," Dandy whispered, one hand creeping under Jimmy while the other still pleased him. "Give you my blankets, my jackets, the sleeves of my sweaters..."

Jimmy breathed in, feeling Dandy tease inside him a little with one finger. Dandy really _did _always smell nice, the clean expensive smell Maggie had noticed the night they were lovers, but now along with that he smelled just the faintest bit sweaty. Soon enough he'd shower, shave and dress, coming downstairs to greet everybody in immaculate clothes and combed hair. That little tang of sweat, of rank, of _boy,_ would just be Jimmy's secret.

"All of 'em?" he drawled, feeling himself coming close.

"All of them," Dandy repeated, jerking and fingering Jimmy at once. "Every last sweater I own. You can ruin them all."

Jimmy spasmed, feeling the imminent release as it rushed to the surface, spurting forward. "R-really truly?"

"I'll give you everything forever, pet," Dandy whispered, feeling Jimmy's hand go limp on his stomach as he came all over both their middles.

Dandy used his fallen shirt to mop the mess up. Flushed, Jimmy lifted his face and looked sideways at him, giving a wink.

"My turn," he grinned, pulling Dandy down and yanking the covers over both of them.

* * *

><p>Suzi scooted across the playroom floor on her wheeled board, passing out presents to the gauntlet of freaks like a legless Santa. She handed a green and gold wrapped box to Eve, who tore it open excitedly to reveal a gold and crystal bib-style necklace.<p>

"Oh, it's beautiful!" she cried, holding it delicately to her chest. "...I just feel bad that we have nothing to give you guys..."

"Nonsense," dismissed Dandy, stroking Bette's curled hair affectionately as she admired her new ruby earrings. "Your presence is gift enough. I... well, I never really had a nice Christmas before."

"Believe me," spoke up Desiree, "neither did most of us." She was smiling, curled up against the side of her new boyfriend, a tall black man in a dapper looking suit. Every freak show performer was in attendance except for Elsa and Dell.

Behind her, a tall Christmas tree sparkled with glass balls and lights and _It's A Wonderful Life _played on the television, though no one was actively watching it. Dandy wasn't a huge fan of the movie, anyway. While he appreciated the sentiment, he'd always found the end more depressing than heartwarming. He wanted George Bailey to ditch that boring little town and go live the life he'd always deserved. Otherwise it wasn't a wonderful life at all.

Jimmy grinned and helped Dot clip her sapphire earrings on. Finishing, he stood and walked across the room to help himself to some more punch.

Maggie followed, cornering him by the Christmas tree and handing him a little plain envelope tied up with a red ribbon.

"It's all the money Stanley and I got for Ma Petite and Salty," she said. She blinked back tears. "I'm so sorry, Jimmy. It won't bring them back, but I want you to have it. It's not a fortune, but it's enough to get you out of here."

"Maggie..." said Jimmy sternly. "You know I can't accept this. Dandy has more money than you or I could even imagine..."

"I know that," she pressed, "but it's the principle of the thing. I can't just keep it."

"Do," said Jimmy, handing the envelope back to her. "Please? Take this and go start your own life somewhere. Get a place, maybe go to school... maybe find someone to love you, someone who really deserves you."

Maggie looked grim. "I don't deserve all that."

"Listen," said Jimmy, putting a hand on her shoulder. "If one thing was true about Salty and Ma Petite, it's that they were pure souls. Pure hearts, no malice or meanness at all in 'em. And they were taken advantage of and mistreated all their lives... Now Mag, you may not look like them on the outside, but that's also true of you. I can't think of any better way to honor them than giving someone like you a second chance."

Maggie rubbed a tear from her eye. "Okay," she said, nodding weakly. "But listen, if you won't take the money, at least accept this: I know a guy in New York City. We grew up in the orphanage there together; he was like a big brother to me. Well, he's still there and he's made good, owns a nightclub now. They put on singers and off-broadway plays. He's always looking for performers, and he'd hire both of you. It's not instant stardom, but you'd be doing what you love. It'd be a fresh start."

Jimmy nodded, his face breaking slowly into a smile. "...Okay," he said. "I... wow, that's amazing, Mag. And I _will_ go. But not yet. Stanley may be behind bars, but I need to make sure things are safe for all these guys before I go anywhere. And what with the freak show about to be under new management, I've gotta stick by them until they get used to the change."

Maggie gave a little nod in response, her heart too full to say much more. "Your mom would be so proud of you, Jimmy," she whispered.

Jimmy blinked, titling his head back. "Well god," he laughed, "if you're gonna _try_ to make me cry and embarrass myself..."

Maggie laughed and pulled him into a tight hug. Jimmy returned the embrace, stooping to plant a noisy kiss on the girl's temple. When Dandy approached them she pulled away, giving the rich boy's shoulder a quick squeeze before rejoining the group.

Jimmy looked at Dandy, his face barely holding back the giddiness that bubbled inside of him.

"Daniel."

_Well you might be a bit confused..._

Dandy looked at Jimmy, possessed suddenly of the same childish glee.

"James."

_And you might be a little bit bruised..._

The pair held back for a moment before wrapping one another in a voracious embrace, unable to contain it any longer.

_But baby, how we spoon like no one else / So I will help you read those books / If you will soothe my worried looks / And we will put the lonesome on the shelf..._

"What was that about?" Dandy asked, looking across the room at Maggie as he pulled away from Jimmy just long enough to settle in next to him with an arm across his back.

Jimmy smiled. "Nothing, doll," he said, turning to give Dandy a similar kiss on the temple, not having to stoop to reach his height. "Just happy, that's all."

_Oh, let's get rich and buy our parents homes in the south of France / Let's get rich and give everybody nice sweaters and teach them how to dance / Let's get rich and build a house on a mountain, making everybody look like ants / From way up there / You and I / You and I..._


	25. We Are Free Men

**Hope you enjoyed that fluff, dear readers, because now we're going DARK. The next two chapters after this may be a little hard to take. In true AHS fashion, we're going all in. There may be scenes I don't enjoy writing and you won't enjoy reading. And not to give away too much, but things will get a little Violate in the WORST way possible. Prepare yourself.**

* * *

><p><em>Well the future spills its intangibles  an unknown set of variables / a path that's split infinitely up ahead / So tell me what's the use to pick and choose / from what you should or shouldn't do / that's time spent better sleeping in your bed / Or wide awake in a shopping mall / trying clothes on from off of the wall, yeah / anything to entertain yourself / Because a costume can be quite comfortable / It can make you feel more beautiful / It can even make you look like someone else..._

_But it's still you / so there's nothing you can do / Like a bad habit / the one you couldn't kick / There it always is / And it's nothing that no doctor's gonna fix..._

_-Bright Eyes, "We Are Free Men"_

* * *

><p>"So this new guy," said Jimmy, taking a swig of his beer. "What did you say his name was?"<p>

"Chester," answered Paul. The two were having a drink together in the deserted dining tent, catching up during one of Jimmy's now more frequent visits to the camp. In the midst of so much death and change, he felt obligated to keep tabs on the place.

He shuddered and sipped his own beer. "He's a bit off his rocker if you ask me," he said. "Something about him... ain't right, Jimmy."

Jimmy shrugged. "I dunno. He seemed nice enough to me. A little high-strung, sure, but so was Elsa."

Paul raised his eyebrows. "I hear him in his trailer," he said, "having full conversations with himself. Out loud. As if someone else was there. It's unnerving."

"Oh come on!" laughed Jimmy. "He's a vantriloquist! He's probably just practicing."

"Well anyhow," said Paul with a quirked eyebrow, "the twins sure are taken with him."

Again the good friends exchanged meaning without many words. The look on Paul's face was enough to make Jimmy's cringe in pain. "Oh hell," he sighed. "You don't mean they..."

Paul nodded. "Complete home-run," he whispered. "Right there on the floor of the main tent, behind the stage. Walked in on 'em, saw it with my own eyes."

Jimmy reached wordlessly for the pack of cigarettes on the table. He was suddenly in great need of one.

Unlike Stanley, The Illustrated Seal wasn't put off by the way Lobster Boy's fused fingers clutched the thing. He simply struck a match with his bent, thumbless hand and held it out to light his friend's cigarette.

After a long moment Jimmy sighed, exhaling smoke. "Ah geez," he muttered. "I gotta make sure Dandy never gets word of that. He'd be beside himself."

An odd look crossed Paul's face. "I'd been meaning to ask..." he said slowly. "...is that your boy now?"

Jimmy was suddenly self conscious. "I know he can be a little hard to take," he said, blushing, "but if you really get to know him... I dunno, he's special. When he loves he really _loves,_ you know? It's all out there, he doesn't play games."

"It's fine," Paul said. "Just weird. I always knew you were a bit into the blokes, but I thought it was just physical."

Jimmy smiled. "Yeah, well you can't plan who you fall for. Penny could tell you that."

"Fair enough," said Paul good naturedly, lifting his drink to clink with his friend's. "Bottoms up."

* * *

><p>Sun spilled wanly in through the small, barred window of the interrogation room. "I assure you," the lawyer said, "my client has an alibi for the evening that several people can confirm."<p>

Stanley, still cuffed, repressed a smile. That was actually true. Granted the people confirming were prostitutes, but that was irrelevant here. No one needed to know that.

The lawyer cast his eyes down to the stack of papers on the table. He was young for his profession and suspiciously handsome, but he did the talking well. "Furthermore," he said, "I have here a police report that marks Mr. Spencer's wallet stolen two days prior to Mrs. Mott's murder. Says here it went missing the night he visited the freak show."

The bailiff took the police report and looked it over. "I have it on record," the lawyer continued, "that a certain Jimmy Darling performed that night. Now, it bears more investigation, of course, but Mr. Darling had become very close to the Mott family as of late. Mrs. Mott's son, a lonely boy, had taken him on as a playmate..."

"So you're implying..."

The lawyer lit a cigarette. "I said it bears investigation," he repeated. "But sir... a young man who had literally nothing would, in my opinion, have every reason to murder a woman who had everything. The Motts don't have much family left, and Gloria's son Daniel is so taken with this freak that if he turned up dead next, Mr. Darling would be the sole heir... My client, being a traveller, was simply an easy target for him."

Stanley met the lawyer's eyes discreetly for an instant. _Beauty AND brains, this one, _he thought. _I can't believe my luck._

* * *

><p>Dark had fallen by the time Jimmy and Paul finished catching up. Jimmy stubbed out his last cigarette and set a half-empty drink down on the table. He couldn't get too buzzed, he figured. He had to drive home.<p>

That was when they heard the sirens. It was police cars, then the patter of running feet forming a crowd. Jimmy heard men's voices speaking low and harsh and Elsa yelling. From inside he only made out one sentence: _Where is he?_

"My god," Paul muttered, standing. "Better go see what all that's about. Hopefully Toulouse ain't setting fires again..."

When the two men exited the tent, a pair of cops descended upon Jimmy in an instant. He hardly had time to process what was going on as he was grabbed, handcuffed, and pushed towards the police car. He heard someone-Elsa? Maggie?-screaming, but in the dizzying haze he couldn't make out words. Paul and the others grouped together, their faces pale with shock.

"Jimmy Darling," a policeman said, "you're under arrest for the murder of Gloria Mott."


	26. Work Song, Part One

**These next two chapters are set to "Work Song" by Hozier, which I actually heard and got inspired by. I wasn't going to do a Jimmy in jail storyline, but then I heard the song and these two chapters just kind of... appeared in my mind. They do that. I re-imagine it here as a song of the times. And yeah, the gender pronoun doesn't fit, but big deal.**

**I suppose I should include a trigger warning for homophobia here. It's pretty bad, but it WAS Florida in the '50's, and a lot of m/m fic gets flack for glossing over those issues. I suppose if you're watching AHS you're no fragile flower.**

**Also, I included a flashback because I'd always wondered why Jimmy was SO distraught over Meep and why he kept calling him a hero. So I wrote a peek into their special bond. Feels ahead.**

* * *

><p><strong>...Wisconsin, 1948...<strong>

"Really coming down out there," Jimmy observed, peering out the small cabin's window at the falling snow. Already the ground was blanketed in a permanent six inches, and now they were up to a foot and still gaining. The bad weather put everyone on edge, and Ma Petite had been crying all afternoon because her pet rabbit ran away. She'd doted on that thing, taming it from scratch when Pepper caught it for her. Now it was missing.

Paul looked up from the stove as the kettle whistled. "Fancy some rum in your cocoa?" he asked. "You're of age now, after all."

Jimmy shook his head and took the plain cup of cocoa Paul poured him. "Where's Meep, anyhow?" he asked as the older man splashed some liquor into his own mug.

Paul shrugged as another pitiful sob sounded from Ma Petite in the next room. "I ain't seem him all afternoon. Must be with Elsa." He took a sip and glanced out at the storm with a guilty expression. "You don't suppose we should go out there and look for that damn rabbit?" he asked, in a tone that seemed to hope for a no.

"Nah," said Jimmy, sipping his hot drink. "It's freezing balls out there and I'm on my last pair of dry socks. Besides, it's getting dark and god knows what's in those woods. I'm not about to take my chances with a bear for one bunny. Once the weather's better we can go out and catch her a new one; she won't know the difference."

As if on cue, then, they heard pattering footsteps coming from the direction of the woods behind them. Two pairs, actually: a lighter two-legged pair followed closely by the quick, heavy plod of four.

Paul craned his neck around the edge of the window. "Holy hell..."

Jimmy pushed him aside before rushing to the door and throwing it open. Running up the walk, snow-drenched and frozen and as fast as his little legs could carry him, was Meep. In hot pursuit of him was a growling cougar.

Jimmy got the small man in and slammed the door behind him just in time. Paul hammered on the window pane and hollered until the cougar stalked off.

"Jesus Christ, Meep!" cried Jimmy. "You coulda been killed!"

"Meep..." whimpered Meep quietly, shivering. The poor guy had icicles all but hanging off his nose. Anyone would have been freezing, and Meep ran unusually cold as it was. Jimmy looked down, warm tears coming quickly to his eyes: In the geek's snowy arms, safe and sound, was Ma Petite's rabbit.

"Aww, Meepsy..." whispered Jimmy, blinking the tears back and chiding himself, as always, for his stupid sentimentality. A big smile spread across his face. "You're a hero!" he exclaimed, clocking Meep playfully on the shoulder. "Ma Petite! Get out here! Meep's got your bunny!"

After a joyful reunion of woman and rabbit, Jimmy took Meep aside. "C'mere," he said, guiding his shorter friend into the cabin's small second bedroom. "I have something for you..."

He knelt and burrowed his way under the small cot, pulling out the old army surplus bag that stored his childhood treasures. Beneath a few storybooks and old articles of clothing the toy soldier lay, handmade and wooden and carefully jointed, with a soft plush middle that-despite the toy's masculine nature-was perfect for hugging.

"Here," Jimmy said, his long hands placing the carefully kept doll into the geek's skinny arms. "He's my favorite. I want you to have him, for being so brave."

"Meep?" Meep questioned, looking down at the soldier and back up at Jimmy. The toy was among Jimmy's prized possessions, well-made and sentimental. It was one of the only real Christmas presents he'd ever received as a child.

"Nah," pressed Jimmy, "go on. He's yours."

"Meep!" cried Meep happily, throwing his arms around Jimmy's rib cage with the splendid toy clutched in one hand. Jimmy hugged back, resting his face atop Meep's downy blond hair. "My brother..." he whispered, smiling. "My brother..."

* * *

><p><strong>...Jupiter, Florida, January 1953...<strong>

_Boys, workin' on empty / is that the kinda way to face the burning heat? / I just think about my baby / I'm so full of love I could barely eat / There's nothing sweeter than my baby / I never want once from the cherry tree / Cause my baby's sweet as can be / She give me toothaches just from kissin' me..._

The man's voice on the radio was low and full of longing. Jimmy sang along to the old work song, kneading the bread dough in time to its chain-gang rhythm. A model prisoner, he'd quickly earned extra freedoms, and working in the bakery was his favorite. It was the one place besides his cell that he could find any solitude. At night in particular it was deserted.

"Purdy voice you got there," said the man in the doorway. Jimmy didn't have to look up to know it was Troy.

"Thanks," said Jimmy expressionlessly, not lifting his gaze to meet the other prisoner's.

Troy smirked. "Purdy love song for a girl... But I hear it ain't a girl you got at home. I hear it's a boy."

Jimmy shot him a bored, incredulous look. "Do I _look_ like a poof to you?"

"No," said Troy, coming closer and resting his gaze upon the younger man's floured hands. "You look like something dragged outta that freak show down the way. We had another one like you in here not long ago; showed him _real_ good for what he did."

In an instant Jimmy was upon him, throwing the bigger man against the wall and pinning him by the throat with one strong forearm. All the anger he'd held inside for the past few months came rushing to the surface, no longer contained. "Meep was innocent!" he said through clenched teeth, his reddened face inches from Troy's. "He never did shit to no one! And even if he did, you wouldn't have cared... You sick fucks just wanted to destroy something vulnerable."

Troy could have fought back, but he bided his time. "And you just wanted to destroy something rich," he said smugly, not struggling beneath Jimmy's grip. "Was it worth it, Lobster Boy? Sucking dick and putting up with tantrums, for that Mott money?"

Jimmy slammed his forearm against the guy's throat, hard enough to make him gag. "Fuck you!" he hissed, any semblance of control over his temper long gone. "I never thought _once_ about his money; I _love_ him!"

The moment the words left his mouth Jimmy knew he'd made a horrible slip. He felt the power struggle between them slip from his grasp as quick as water. His arm went limp over Troy's throat and he drew a hand to his mouth, his large eyes widening with horror.

Troy's widened, too. "You _are_ a freak," he said slowly, taking one of Jimmy's wrists roughly. "But it ain't because of these..." He raised a hand, tapping painfully at Jimmy's temple with one thick finger. "It's because of what's in _here._ But around these parts, we take care of boys like you..."

* * *

><p>Pinned in the basement, among the scattered ledgers and bookkeeping items, Jimmy shivered in his threadbare cotton uniform. The four biggest men held him down by the wrists and ankles, one to each limb. He watched the faces, white and brown and gray, float above him like menacing ghosts.<p>

The oldest prisoner was a man known only as The Preacher. Jimmy didn't know for sure, but rumor had it he was in for dragging an unwed pregnant girl down a gravel road behind his car. He was a veteran, rumor had it, driven crazy by the first world war, who'd clung to the strict religion he was raised with after combat broke his mind. Now in his seventies, he was a gaunt man with white hair that disappeared into his dead white skin. Even his eyes, too pale a blue for sanity, were nearly white. Those eyes: Jimmy had seen them before on snarling dogs.

The Preacher knelt slowly beside Jimmy, his body wracked with tremors and his cataract-eyes jerking back and forth in their sockets with an involuntary tick. "Thou shalt not lie with mankind..." he trembled, his voice high and wind-thin. Jimmy was reminded for a moment of the old goat from the cartoon he and Dandy watched. "...as with womankind... It is abomination..."

The Preacher's shaking hands pressed the glass vial against Jimmy's lips, knocking his teeth as he poured the bitter syrup down his throat. Jimmy tried, both on instinct and purpose, to choke it back up, but he couldn't manage much flat on his back.

It wasn't long before Jimmy recognized the flavor: Ipecac. He'd had it once or twice, but never in nearly such a quantity as this. When the vomit came up it wasn't food because he hadn't eaten. It was water, thin and horrid, with the burn of stomach acid. He choked on it, wanting to stop, but it just kept on coming.

"Gotta get those demons up..." The Preacher muttered, struggling to his feet. "Gotta get those demons up and out..."

In the sickened haze Jimmy could see the other men coming with buckets of water. "Purify you..." shuddered The Preacher as the first icy splash hit.

_"Freak..."_ hissed the younger man, walking away with the now-empty bucket.

_You are strong, Jimmy Darling, _Edward Mordrake had said. _Some might even say hard. _But that was a lifetime ago, before he was broken by loss and violated by indignity. He wasn't strong anymore. The world had won.

_Freak._ That one word was the great equalizer; it meant everything. It didn't matter anymore that he was twice Meep's size and three times his mental capacity. They were no different and he could do no more to save himself, or anyone.

He snuffled, spitting up bile as the next wave of water hit. "In the name of the Father," railed The Preacher, "the Son, and the Holy Ghost..."

Jimmy didn't struggle. He lay, remembering the toy soldier in Meep's still arm as he was lowered into his grave. How terribly he'd wanted, then, to snatch it back. How ashamed he'd felt, tearing up in front of everyone, letting them think that his tears were for his fallen brother. They were, but only in part. They were also the tears of a child, unhappy to see that lovely plaything lowered into the dirt forever, lost. He'd wept because he wanted his doll back, to hold to his chest and call his own, providing succor.

Jimmy wept again for it now, and for everyone and everything else that he had lost.

He thought of Dandy, though, the same thought that beat and ticked inside of him all day, keeping him calm and easy. He clung to it now, his last thread of sanity. Somewhere out there, Dandy was existing, entertaining and dressing and growing teary-eyed and pushing things off tables. Loving. Even if he never came for Jimmy, even if he found someone else, that love was all Jimmy needed to warm him inside. It was sustaining; at once sick and full, hollow and sated. That love was enough.

_When my time comes around / lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her..._


	27. Work Song, Part Two

**I apologize for this chapter ahead of time. It's the darkest one this fic will see, and makes the last one look like fluff by comparison. It's unpleasant. But necessary. Thanks for sticking with me!**

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><p><em>That's when my baby found me  I was three days on a drunken sin / I woke with her walls around me / nothing in her room but an empty crib / And I was burnin' up a fever / I didn't care much how long I lived / But I swear I thought I dreamed her / She never asked me once about the wrong I did..._

Dandy rarely dreamt. That was the domain of the fully human-the feeling, the complete. Tonight, though, he dreamt of a room in his home, the old nursery, painted and decorated for a small boy. As if in a daze he walked to it.

The infant in the ornate wrought iron crib cooed and babbled, releasing little murmurs of pleasure and small shrieks of discontent. Dandy went to it. Him. He picked the small heir up, a fair boy swaddled in palest blue. There was light coming from downstairs-love, life. He couldn't see it behind him so much as _feel_ it. He thought he could hear Jimmy laughing, light and happy.

Dandy's hands shook around their son's tiny body. "There," he whispered, his voice husky and his eyes glazing with thick tears as he cradled the baby. "There, little love..."

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><p>He woke abruptly, the darkness and emptiness of the mansion hitting him like cold water. He shook his head, baffled, sitting up. He'd never wanted children of his own, and he still didn't. Babies were boring, and parenthood was a daunting responsibility that he didn't care to take on. Even if he did desire children, he wasn't so naive as to think it could happen with Jimmy. Dandy was hardly worldly, but he knew enough to know that two men couldn't marry and raise a family. The thought was ludicrous.<p>

He stood and looked around at Jimmy's bedroom, where he'd taken to sleeping in the boy's absence. Dandy was going on two days without a shower; his tousled hair was greasy at the roots and the lower half of his face was covered now with shadowy stubble. For the first time in his life, he could smell his own sweat.

The undressed boy stopped to pick a pair of Jimmy's jeans up, stepping into the faded things and zipping the fly, buttoning them at the waist. He reached into the closet to pull out an old green sweater, shoddily hand-knit with cheap looking yarn. After putting it on he sat down on the bed, slipping his sock-clad feet into Jimmy's boots and lacing them. That was the only part of the outfit that didn't fit. Being fused like his hands, Jimmy's feet were a little bit longer.

Dandy stood, staring at his appearance in the full length mirror. Through the slight tang of his own unwashed body he could smell Jimmy, clean and simple, in the clothes. His closed mouth twitched and he thought of weeping. He missed mother. He regretted killing her now, as much of a bother as she may have been. At least she could have provided him with some kind of company.

But no, he'd been foolish, and now he was alone-and worse, powerless. All the money in the world couldn't release a suspected killer from jail, especially not when the man offering it was the slain woman's son. He couldn't, he wouldn't; people would ask questions. He'd be locked up himself, and Jimmy, an accessory, would still be in trouble and wouldn't be freed.

Jimmy was _gone_. Jimmy was gone, mistreated and hurting, and it was all Dandy's fault. Dora had been right about him. He was a fool, a child, and he'd made a mess of everything. He thought again of crying, but that useless solution turned quickly instead to thoughts of death. He smiled in the mirror, twitching and joyless.

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><p>The small roadside bar, on the outskirts of a town about an hour out of Jupiter, wasn't for gay men. Dandy was through with that place. Someone like him could hardly take a breath there, could hardly think without someone at his back, touching him or talking to him. Breathing, offering, <em>wanting<em>. He was through with being wanted, it attracted far too much attention. He needed somewhere where he'd be left alone.

It was a bar for men, however, blue-collar types who worked hard and weary through the day and sought solace in the night through whiskey, beer, low light and country music. Normally Dandy would have drawn strange glances at a place like that, but in his current state he fit right in. He ordered several rounds of cheap liquor and drank quickly and continually, content for the moment to both ignore and be ignored.

It wasn't until his mind had grown hazy with alcohol that he noticed Dell's familiar, stocky form seated up front at the bar. The strongman was alone, too, and looked to be doing about as well as Dandy was: dark circles underscored his eyes, and his clothing was rumpled and stained. Dandy's game-plan for the night changed in an instant. He stood up, leaving a litter of empty shot glasses in his wake, and stumbled across the bar to join Dell.

"Excuse me," he slurred, sliding onto the stool next to Dell and gesturing to the lit cigarette in his hand. "Could I... could I have one?"

The older man took a pack out of his shirt pocket and offered it to Dandy, casting him a nonchalant look that confirmed what Dandy suspected: Dell didn't recognize him. There was no real reason he should. Dandy didn't frequent the freak show much, and Dell hadn't been at Meep's funeral nor attended Christmas. But Dandy knew who he was, and better yet: he knew Dell's secret.

Dandy lit his cigarette with the pack of matches on the bar, stifling a cough when he inhaled. He wasn't used to smoking. "Do I know you?" he asked Dell. "You look ever so oddly familiar..."

Dell squinted at the young man. He was good-looking, sure, but his formal mannerisms and speech didn't match his blue-collar appearance. "Doubt it," he said, looking as if he'd rather be left alone. "I ain't from around here."

"But I'm _certain_ I know you," pressed Dandy, pointing drunkenly and swaying in his seat. "Perhaps from somewhere... illicit. Somewhere you shouldn't have been."

Dell stubbed out his cigarette. "Look, buddy, I ain't in the mood for no trouble tonight. If you're looking for a fight I suggest you go bug someone else."

"Oh no," said Dandy, exhaling smoke and reaching lightly for Dell's leg under the bar. "Not trouble, certainly not... but secrets. It's nice to have secrets, isn't it? Perhaps we could share one..."

Dandy's table near the back of the bar was awash in empty glass, looking as if three people had been drinking there rather than one. He'd initially come with the intent of killing someone, quick and easy, someone poor and unimportant that the world would never miss. But now, so wasted he could hardly feel his own face, Dandy didn't want to kill Dell. He was instead overcome with the desire to be fucked by him.

It wasn't physical desire. Bald and squat, Dell was anything but handsome, and his eyes, closed-off and cold, were nothing like Jimmy's. But Dandy thought that maybe if Dell fucked him, it would be like having a little piece of Jimmy back. He wanted the seed that made his Jimmy to spill inside of him, retaining Jimmy, keeping him. No babies would come of it, he knew. It would all just be absorbed and disappear forever, null and void, into his stupid, useless boy-body.

Dell jerked his leg away, not wanting to risk being outed in such a place. But his expression changed and he darted his eyes around the bar, making sure no one was watching. "I'm gonna leave," he whispered, putting his drink down. "Meet me around the back in a few minutes."

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><p>Dandy was glad that it wasn't front-facing. Out there in the cold, down the end of a dirt road, all he could see ahead of him was black space. That's all it felt like, black space shoved up his ass, impersonal and joyless as a Coke can. He began to cry-pitying, frustrated tears. This didn't <em>feel good.<em> It was _supposed_ to feel good.

"Andy," he whimpered, overcome by masochism. He didn't want to kill or to fuck anymore. He just wanted to hurt. "Andy..."

Dell stopped dead. "What do you know about Andy?" he demanded, his voice panicked and desperate.

A laugh, high and maniacal, rose up in Dandy's chest. "I killed him," he cackled, his voice a madman's. "I killed Andy..." Though tears still fell, he was laughing now-unmistakably, laughing so hard he could hardly speak. "...I killed him and I cut him up and then did away with his parts..."

Dell wasted no time. He pulled out so quickly that Dandy nearly shit himself, pulling up his waistband and jumping to his feet before the naked young man could even manage to roll over. Instantly Dell was atop him, beating him, punching and shoving with a force Dandy hadn't thought possible.

"I'll kill you!" he railed, narrowly missing Dandy's pretty nose with one flying fist. "I'll kill you!"

To Dandy time was infinite, reality subjective. He lay crying and laughing and jerking and spitting up blood. He'd have been no match for Dell Toledo even sober and trying, and Dandy was neither. His saving grace was the almost-pitch dark and the fact that Dell was drunk, too. Many of the blows missed, falling clumsy and rough in unintended places or the dirt.

_When my time comes around / lay me gently in the cold dark earth / No grave can hold my body down / I'll crawl home to her..._

"I'm the one..." Dandy gasped, one nostril leaking blood and his mouth oozing it, too. On top of him Dell was a kaleidoscope, dizzy and fading with one upturned fist. "It's me... I've been taking... taking care of Jimmy..."

Dell stopped short, his fist still raised in suspended animation. "Please..." Dandy sobbed, sputtering red from his lips. "...I know you l-love him too..."

For a moment the two men's eyes met, an unspoken fear and grief passing between enemies with uncomfortable recognition. In the end it was Dell who could stand it no longer. He grunted something non-verbal and pushed Dandy roughly, further down into the dirt like a corpse. A second later Dandy heard him stand and then heard his car start and rattle away.

Then it was silence. Dandy wasn't sure he'd ever experienced real silence before, real dark. But the earth now, against his naked body, was rich and silky with cold, damp with it even without rain. He felt worms beneath him, thought of coffins, decadent and poetic and horrid. He could taste blood, acrid and sniffly in his nose, and smell bodies and all of the horrible things they possessed. Piss, shit, vomit. Decay.

Dandy's body hurt. His heart didn't. His heart had given up.

He wasn't sure if the footsteps were real or imagined. He was unsure, too, of the voices: both female, one high and one low. Maybe it was salvation or maybe it was death-maybe one _was_ the other-but something, maternal and soothing, lifted him and rocked him in and out of consciousness. Loving, reviving, singing and fragile. Cool cloths and soft voices, thin hands and perfume. Bringing him back to himself.

_In the low lamp light I was free / Heaven and hell were words to me..._

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><p><strong>Now you know what I meant by Violate. Sorry. It just wouldn't be an AHS psycho-ship if someone didn't bang their true love's parent. But the good news is that Jimmy is NO Violet. He's broken enough to love his very own psycho exactly the way that he is. <strong>


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